


The Tale of the Cursed Prince and the Wolf of Raki

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Spacedogs - Fandom
Genre: Adam is a cursed prince, Curses, Darko would be so mad if he knew what I did to him, Friends to Lovers, Hand wavy medieval setting, Hannibal Extended Universe, Harlan his faithful knight, Harlan thinks he can break the curse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Spacedogs, That friend is Nigel, fairy tale, with a friend for Adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: Born a prince in the Kingdom of Raki, Adam's autism is regarded as a curse by his father and the healers he brings in to cure him. Adam's trusty knight, Harlan, isn't so sure the boy is cursed, just lonely. When the two find a mangy boy on the streets who isn't afraid of Adam's oddities, inspiration strikes the knight: Harlan hires the boy as a squire and Adam gets a new friend. Will this arrangement break the curse?Basically a riff on the movie Penelope and the idea that curses only have power if you believe in them.





	1. A Squire for Sir Harlan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsrebecca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsrebecca/gifts).



> I would like to dedicate this to Rebecca, who is one of my best, most wonderful commenters, and who has asked me to write a story with Harlan meeting Nigel several times. This...is close? I'm sorry love, it's the best I could do. 
> 
> Second dedication goes to Wrath of the Stag, who talked me down all 1,000 times I freaked out that this story was too long and going nowhere.
> 
> My undying love goes to Gwilbers for betaing my nonsense and keeping you from my most horrific mistakes.

          Sir Harlan of Keyes paused as he tromped through the village, rubbing his sore knees. He was nearly through his sixtieth year and his armor had started to weigh heavy on him of late. He’d taken many an arrow to the knee in his years serving the Kingdom of Raki, and now every single one seemed still embedded in his flesh.

          “Are you well, Sir Harlan?” One of the palace guards approached, bending as if to inspect a flaw in the knight’s knee.

          Harlan straightened, patting his swollen joints. “No trouble, but there’s rain coming. We need to find the prince before it breaks.”

          The guard paled. “Will rain make the curse worse?”

          “No, you dolt, it’ll ruin his clothes!” Harlan huffed waving his hand in the guard’s face. “Take your men, go check the livery.”

          Adam wouldn’t be in the livery, Harlan knew, but it would be better if the palace guards with their gruff ways and ignorant superstitions didn’t find him first. Harlan watched as the guard gathered his troop and ran north, swords brandished.

          He rolled his eyes. All this fuss over a boy.

          In truth, it annoyed him that King Raki had sent the guards at all. Harlan had been wrangling the prince since the village healer declared the boy cursed at the age of seven. Harlan had never seen much to the curse.

          The boy was peculiar, yes. He’d throw hell-raising fits if he was touched too much, or his food wasn’t right. Screaming and beating himself about the head until his crying mother and father fled the room, leaving Harlan to hold the boy until he calmed.

          Though the fits were frightening, they got less frequent as the boy aged. By nine, Harlan could spot the fits as they formed, and had even begun to stop them before they escalated. Still, the king and queen wanted a prince to present at balls, not a quiet son who preferred old books and would loudly complain that the ceremonies of the kingdom were silly superstitions.

          When the queen died trying to give birth to a _normal_ heir,  King Raki became obsessed with curing his son. Virgins were thrown on pyres, blood was smeared across the prince’s screaming face, and leagues of shaman and healers were brought to the palace only to be banished when the prince showed no improvement. Every healing treatment from potions to ointments were forced upon the boy until his screams and fits became legendary throughout the castle, only growing the murmurs about the cursed price.

          And that’s what had finally stopped the king’s quest – the murmurs. It was one thing to have a son who couldn’t behave properly, quite another to have his subjects know about it. Maids were threatened, knights menaced until the stories of the prince’s oddities were merely castle legend. To those living outside the palace, there was nothing wrong with the heir to the Raki crown.

          Personally, Harlan preferred it that way. Prince Adam was a sweet boy when his father wasn’t fussing at him, and as long as he and the other prince’s guards maintained a routine, there were no problems. The days weren’t exciting, but Harlan found he didn’t mind eating the same meals day in and day out if it meant keeping his little prince away from the horrors of trying to heal him. Adam, to Harlan’s mind, had always been a good boy.

          Until today.

          Today, as Harlan trudged through the village, getting muck on his good cloak and feeling every ache in his old bones, he had to admit Adam was a acting like a little shit.  

          The boy had been desperate to go to the meeting hall; an astronomer was giving a lecture about the earth revolving around the sun. Normally, as long as Harlan promised to keep Adam out of sight, he could take the young prince to the hall to hear all the science lectures he wished. Adam loved the poorly attended events, and he was content to sit in the balcony while Harlan snored softly. But the clergy had been upset about this lecture, it challenged one of the beliefs they preached and it wouldn’t do to have a prince or a royal guard spotted at the hall.

          Adam had tried to argue his point, stammering and tapping his way through his request. But his ‘fits’, as King Raki labeled them, only served to provoke the monarch. He had banned Adam from going to any lectures at all, telling him his clergy tutors would have to suffice since he couldn’t act appropriately in public.

          Harlan had soothed Adam through the fit that followed. He listened as the boy stuttered out all his reasons for going, gently catching the hands that tried to smack at their own flesh. When Adam was calm, Harlan had promised to go to the lecture himself, to stay awake for once and report back to the prince all that was said.

          Apparently, Adam hadn’t had much faith in Harlan’s ability to recount the lecture. The boy snuck out of his rooms just as the guards were changed. An alert was raised and now, as Harlan moved toward the hall, he hoped Adam had remembered the way properly and hadn’t stopped to talk to anyone.

          “I’ll fucking kill you, you fuck!”

          “Get him!”

          “Grab the satchel!”

          Harlan frowned at the sound, his heartbeat speeding. Please, oh please.

          “N-no! I- I-”

          Harlan’s heart stopped. Adam. Ignoring the protests in his old joints he ran down an alley that lead to the docks. He only prayed he had enough fight in him to save his boy from whatever had him.

          When Harlan reached the mouth of the alley, he paused, trying to assess the dangers to Adam. He frowned when he finally spotted the boy, cowering against a wall. To Harlan’s surprise, however, the men at the docks weren’t upon him, they were being held at bay by a mangy boy wielding a plank of wood.

          The boy snarled at three grown men, swiping at them and landing blows as he dodged their swords. There was a wildness to the child, he looked like the feral children that the nuns on the hill fed and clothed. They usually died on the streets before reaching their teens, their small bodies trampled by carriages before the street cleaners could dump them in a large grave.

          But this one, with the fierce curl of his lip and the inelegant aggression of a street fighter, had apparently thrived in the dirty alleys of the village. Harlan reached for his sword, prepared to help the boy when he heard a solid _thwack._ He looked up to see that the boy had felled the largest of the men. Instead of turning to the other attackers, the boy leaped upon the downed man, smashing the board into the man’s leather breastplate and head.

          The two other men moved to step around the boy, hoping to get at Adam while his filthy protector was distracted. Adam shrank lower to the wall, still hugging his satchel to his chest. Before the men could reach Adam, the boy darted between them, holding a bloody piece of wood aloft.

          “Run or I’ll drive this through your fucking heart.” Though the boy was smaller than both men, they seemed to take his threat seriously. Turning, they ran toward the wharfs, leaving their friend to bleed out on the wooden walkway.

          Harlan knew he should approach, grab Adam and look him over for marks, but something rooted him to the spot. He watched in fascination as the mangy boy flopped next to Adam on the wall, spitting out blood before turning to the prince.

          “So, what’s in that fucking satchel?” The boy nudged it, causing Adam to flinch and curl harder around the bag. The boy studied Adam before scooting away a bit. He didn’t leave, merely offered Adam a bit more room.

          “I-it it…It’s mine!” Adam was still curled, his face turning purple. Harlan ached to go to the boy but made himself remain hidden.

          “Didn’t say it wasn’t.” The kid replied, apparently ignoring Adam’s gasping breaths and rocking. He used the bloody wood he still clutched to pick at his teeth. “I asked what was in it.”

          “S-st-s”

          “We’re not getting nowhere with this,” the boy said, tossing the wood aside. He kneeled, moving before Adam. When the prince looked up, the boy held his hand in supplication. “If I was gonna hurt you, I’d have done it after I beat that one, don’t you think?”

          Adam blinked, face still purple as he hyperventilated. The boy watched him for a moment before tapping the prince to draw his attention. “Try this, take three deep breaths, and on the fourth, just blurt out what’s in the fucking satchel.”

          Adam frowned, but he drew a breath and held it.

          Then another.

          And another.

          Finally, Adam drew in air and said, “A book of star charting.”

          The boy frowned. “Did they hit you in the head before I got here?” 

          Adam shook his head. Harlan noted the prince was still rocking, but the color was receding in his face. His fingers flexed, stopping their frenetic tapping to reach into the bag and produce his book. The boy had spent ages making notes and sketching in the pages. He rarely let it out of his sight. Harlan still didn’t quite understand all the markings in the book, but Adam loved trying to explain them.

          “A book?” The boy snorted. “They would have killed you if they knew that was all to be found in that fancy fucking bag.”

          Adam tried to hand it to him, but the boy shook his head. “Can’t read.”

          “But you’re so old!” Adam said with a frown, his rocking now just gentle shifts.

          “Nearly sixteen, I think,” the boy said with his chin in the air. “Never needed to read.”

          “I-I could show you.” Adam moved until he was pressed against the boy, holding the open book. He tapped the page. “This says _observations about the constellation Cassiopeia in the winter sky_.”

          The boy’s brow furrowed. “You draw all this?”

          “Yes.” The boy moved to take the book, Harlan’s mouth fell open when Adam allowed him to. Carefully, the boy began paging through the sketches.

          "The stars move,” he murmured, flipping from page to page. “They move in the sky.”

          “Yes!” Adam’s whole face lit up. “The stars move throughout the night and, depending on the season, the stars we can see change.”

          Harlan’s whole body flushed warm. The last time he’d seen Adam this excited was when he snuck him out of the castle to watch the shooting stars in the spring. His knees had ached from the cold and the damp for a week, but it had been worth it for that bright smile.

          “Adam!” Harlan called out. The prince looked up and waved, the boy next to him tensed, his lip already curling. “You’ve got three guard patrols out looking for you, boy!”

          “Leave him alone!” The boy was already brandishing the wood, he either didn’t care or didn’t recognize the king’s guard armor.

          Adam’s hand reached out and touched the boy’s wrist, stilling him. “Harlan’s my guard, please don’t hurt him.”

          “Your guard?” The boy frowned, but dropped the wood.  “What did you do?”

          “He ran off when the king told him not to,” Harlan huffed, finally reaching the boys. “And now I have to get him back to the castle before his father starts beheading people.”

          “I missed the lecture.” Adam’s dejected voice made Harlan smile. “I took a wrong turn and-”

          “And I told you not to go alone.”

          “But I wanted to talk about my charts. I think that-”

          “Adam,” Harlan tried again gently. “We have to go.”

          Adam nodded. Harlan glanced over to the grubby boy standing next to the prince, frowning. Up close, Harlan could see dark, fierce eyes peering through his greasy hair. His cheeks and chin were caked with dirt, and he could certainly use a few good meals, but the boy looked like he’d be sturdily built if anyone ever fed him. An ugly scar ran up the left side of his throat, and Harlan wondered how the boy had survived a wound like that.

          “What’s your name, boy?”

          “What’s yours, old man?”

          Harlan felt his lips twist into a half smile. “I’m Sir Harlan of Keyes, captain of the prince’s guard.”

          “Hell of a job you’re doing,” the boy sneered.

          Harlan laughed, in spite of himself. “You think you could do a better job?”

          “Did today.” The boy pushed his chin up, a proud little urchin.

          “Well, then maybe you should come with us, give me some tips.”

          “What?” The boy faltered, his eyes lost their flinty glare for a moment as confusion set in.

          “I need a squire, I’m getting too old to run after this one.” Harlan gestured to Adam, who was smiling at the boy. “You work hard, you’ll be a knight in the prince’s guard by the time your balls drop.”

          “You’re fucking with me.” The boy’s guarded expression had returned, full of spite and fire.

          “You got a better offer? Maybe you need to stay here, collect more fleas ?” Harlan plucked at the boy’s ragged shirt and sure enough a few little buggers leaped from the moving cloth.

          “What do I have to do?” The boy rubbed at his throat, and Harlan felt something cold creep into his stomach. The lives of children weren’t kind outside the palace walls.

          “You train. You keep your smart mouth shut. You keep this one company.” Harlan looked him over. “And you bathe. At least once a week.”

          The boy opened his mouth, but Adam stepped forward. “I could teach you to read and tell you more about the stars. I could watch you train too, I’ve studied three books about swordsmanship.”

          The boy looked over the prince, his mouth crumpling as he gnawed on his lip. “Yeah, OK.”

          “Welcome to the prince’s guard…” Harlan held out a hand.

          “Nigel.”

          “Your first duty, Nigel, is to help me get Adam back to the palace without making a fuss. You know a good way back?”

          Nigel thought for a moment, before nodding and leading them along the docks. Adam followed immediately after the boy, no hesitation in his steps for once.

          Harlan smiled. He’d have to chase after two boys now, but somehow, he didn’t mind the extra work.

 

 


	2. The Unlikely Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam's POV: A fight, a lesson, and a birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, we all need to take a moment to acknowledge [The Sea Voices](https://theseavoices.tumblr.com/), who created the most gobsmackingly beautiful piece for this story. You all owe Sea Voices awe. Just...this is beyond gorgeous and frankly better than the fic. I love it so, it is PERFECT.
> 
> Second, thank you all for reading and hitting comment, bookmark, or kudos, I appreciate you all so much!
> 
> Finally, I need to express my eternal love for Gwilbers who tirelessly puts up with my typos so you don't have to.

          “And if you put any god before the true God you will burn for eternity in a lake of fire.”

          “Lakes are made of water.” Adam looked up from his notes about the stars. He hated the new tutors his father assigned to him. None of them ever wanted to talk about science or astronomy.

          “Wh- yes, but in hell, they’re made of fire.” The tutor adjusted his robes with a frown.

          “I understand the symbolism, it just doesn’t make sense. Are you sure it wouldn’t just be a pit of fire?”

          “The point, your highness, is that-”

          “If I don’t worship your god I’ll die. I know.” Adam glanced out the window when he heard a loud clang and cursing. “Is my lesson over?”

          “Well, yes, I suppose-”

          “Thank you!” Adam bounded for the door, clutching his star chart in his hands.

          He ran down the curved stairwell that lead to his chambers, careful not to catch his heel on the cracked stone step as he moved. The servants still gave him odd looks as he tore through the hallways to the livery, but they no longer recoiled as he moved by. Harlan said that was progress.

          Bursting into the small courtyard by the livery, Adam stopped to catch his breath. The two men fighting didn’t stop their battle for the prince, they continued their brutal clashes of metal flesh. Careful to keep to the sides of the courtyard, Adam moved around the battle to take a seat on a bench by Harlan.

          “You’re late today,” Harlan said, holding up a plate of bread and dried meats.

          Adam shrugged. “I was learning about lakes of fire.”

          Harlan snorted just as one of the knights dodged a thrust and kicked his opponent back a few paces.

          Adam smiled, taking a bite of bread. “He’s gotten much better, don’t you think?”

          Harlan nodded, eyes squinting as he assessed Nigel’s stance “Still dropping his right shoulder. Charles is going to see that soon.”

          Adam considered the fighters while he chewed. In the year Nigel had been training with Harlan, he’d gone from wildly yelling and swinging his sword to one of the best fighters among the squires. Harlan said it had more to do with the meals than his training. It was true, regular meals and snacks had helped Nigel spring from scrawny boy into a broad chested young man. Harlan often complained that it cost more to feed Nigel than it did the horses, but Adam didn’t think he meant it.

          His knight and Nigel had developed an odd sort of relationship that Adam didn’t quite understand. None of the other squires dared to make faces at their knights, let alone call them _Fucker_ or O _ld Man_ , yet Harlan seemed to find Nigel’s jibes funny. In turn, Harlan had taken to calling Nigel _Flea._ Adam didn’t like the term, but Nigel had told him it was OK.

          “It’s how men talk, Adam,” he’d explained one night.

          “You don’t talk to me like that.”

          “Who could ever call you a name, highness?” Nigel had said, tugging on one of Adam’s curls with a wink. Adam had smiled at that. Plenty of people called him names, his father called him _cursed_ , a few of the servants called him possessed, but Harlan and Nigel never did.

          For the first time in his life, Adam had a real friend, one who tugged his curls and ate dinner in his chambers. And for that reason, Adam liked to rush downstairs each afternoon and watch Nigel train. The boy was still not as accomplished as the other squires, who came from high-born families and had been carefully taught blade and bow skills at an early age. Still, Nigel’s determination meant that he was victorious over the others more often than not. Harlan said Nigel was vicious when he fought, every match was life or death to him. Adam could see he was fierce when he held a sword in his hand, but it seemed odd to call Nigel vicious when he dropped his sword to wave at the prince after every bout.

          Still, though Adam thought Nigel was a fine prospect for the king’s guard, the squires refused to accept him. He’d heard the other boys call Nigel a street dog, laughing when Nigel outgrew his armor. Harlan had replaced it in a few weeks, but the damage was done.

          Nigel the Dog was born.

          The boys that trained with him barked, laughing with each other whenever he snarled at them. Harlan told Adam to stay out of it, that Nigel wouldn’t want him making a royal decree that Nigel wasn’t to be called names – but Adam had drafted the decree just in case Nigel changed his mind.

          A frightening bang brought Adam out of his thoughts. Charles had knocked Nigel’s helmet from his head.

          “See? He kept that shoulder up, that never would have happened!” Harlan said through a mouthful of bread.

          Charles punched Nigel with his gauntlet, sending the boy sprawling onto his back. The squires cheered. Adam tried to stand but was held in place by Harlan.

          “You let him finish this fight, Adam,” Harlan whispered. “He can take a beating, but a boy like that can’t take humiliation.”

          Adam dropped back into his seat, with a frown. He hated it when Nigel bled.

          Before Nigel could rise, Charles dropped heavily atop him. He pressed his vambrace to Nigel’s throat, smiling as the prone boy began to choke.

          “Bark.”

          “Charles that’s enough!” Harlan stood. Walking toward the boys. “You felled him, it’s over.”

          “It’s over when he barks.” Charles pressed harder into Nigel’s neck grinning as Nigel tried to buck him off. “Come on, doggie.”

          “Gunther! Get your boy off my squire!” Harlan was moving faster now, he almost had a hand on Charles.

          “All the boy has to do is bark, Harlan.” The knights on the other side of the courtyard laughed.

          A wheeze stopped the motion in the courtyard. Charles crowed, leaning closer to Nigel and releasing some of the pressure on his neck. “Louder, you greasy dog.”

          In a split-second Nigel slammed himself forward, biting into Charles’ ear and tearing a great chunk from it. Charles screamed, clutching at his bloody head as he fell backwards, Nigel following him. He raised his hands and began pounding at Charles’ face, howling as he moved. Harlan let the boy have his vengeance for a few heartbeats before he moved to pull Nigel off of Charles.

          “I want him in the stockade!” Gunther yelled, running to his squire and inspecting the damage. “Look what that animal did to Charlie!”

          Nigel moved to lunge, but Harlan held him fast with a hand to his shoulder. “He won, is what he did, Gunther.”

          “He bit him! Tore his ear to pieces.”

          Gunther rose from the ground and stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Harlan moved in a blink, a dagger pressed to Gunther’s neck before the knight could draw.

          “Arrogance lost that boy of yours the fight, not Nigel’s teeth.” Harlan turned to Charles, who the other squires were gathering around. “You hunt a wolf, boy, you best be sure he’s dead before you declare victory.”

          A murmur went through the squires, _wolf_ they said to each other. Harlan lowered his blade and looked at Gunther. “Get him to the healer, we’re done training for the day.”

          Adam smiled as Nigel limped toward him. The boy flopped on the ground by the prince’s feet, his head falling back to the stone wall of the castle.

          “Dropped my fucking shoulder again, didn’t I?”

          Adam nodded. “But your footwork is getting much better.”

          “Hmmm.” Nigel closed his eyes and raised his face, his blood glittered like rubies in the sunlight.

          Adam tapped Nigel on the shoulder, holding up his goblet of water when the boy looked at him through the slit of an eye. “Here. You should rinse your mouth out. You don’t know where Charles’ ear has been.”

          Nigel laughed, taking the goblet from Adam.

* * *

 

          Adam waited in his bedroom for the servants to set the table in his outer chamber. His father preferred he kept away from the servants, so reports of his oddness didn’t travel throughout the castle.

          Adam peered through the crack in the door, watching Nigel smile at one of the kitchen girls as she laid out roasted chicken and potatoes on the table.

          “You need any help with that, gorgeous?” Nigel asked reaching around her to grab a tray.

          The girl smiled. “Do I look like I need help?”

          “Maybe I just like being helpful?”

          Harlan rolled his eyes and took the tray from both of them, setting it on the table.

          “Thank you for your help,” The girl said to Nigel, earning another eye roll from Harlan. Adam decided he didn’t like this girl. She smiled too much. “You’re not so scary for a wolf.”

          Nigel frowned as he watched her leave. “Wolf?”

          “They’re calling you Nigel the Wolf, now,” said Harlan, pulling a drumstick from the chicken. “Adam! Come out and eat, son. Coast is clear.”

          “Why wolf?” Asked Adam as he opened the door.

          “My guess would be because he bit that fool boy’s ear clean off.”

          “I did not!”

          “Well, you didn’t kiss it, son.” Harlan raised an eyebrow. “Molly said she swept up a chunk of it when she was doing the rounds tonight. She was afraid the horses would eat it in the morning.”

          “Wolf.” Nigel frowned, though he managed a small smile and a nod when Adam joined them at the table. He passed the food to Adam first, as voracious as Nigel’s appetite was, he never took food before Adam filled his plate.

          “What’s wrong with a wolf?” Harlan asked, spearing a potato.

          “Still a dog.”

          “No, it’s not a dog, it’s a wild predator.” Adam cut his chicken into small pieces. He was careful to keep the potatoes away from it. “One that’s feared and respected.”

          Nigel smiled a bit at that, taking a thoughtful bite of his chicken. “You like it, then?”

          “Nigel the Wolf,” Adam rolled the title around in mouth. “You’re not a wolf, you’re a man, but I suppose _Nigel the Man_ doesn’t sound very good.”

          “Wolf it is then.” Nigel winked at Adam and howled. Adam laughed and felt that odd warmth in his chest. It happened more and more frequently when Nigel smiled or made him laugh. “Could be worse, I suppose. Could be Nigel of Keyes.”

          Harlan huffed, sending little bits of roasted chicken flying from his mouth. “I earned that name, boy.”

          “How? Open a lot of doors?”

          Harlan thrust the drumstick in Nigel’s face, the older boy went cross-eyed staring at it. “In the Battle of Keyes I saved the king’s life from a charging brigade. I took-”

          “Three arrows to the knee.” Adam and Nigel finished in tandem. Harlan waved his drumstick at both the boys, making a noise of disgust.

          “You take an arrow for that boy,” Harlan turned his drumstick on Adam. “And then you can make fun of my name.”

          “I’d take 10 arrows for Adam!” Nigel pulled off the other drumstick. “Wouldn’t complain about them as much as you, neither.”

          “I don’t want you to take arrows for me,” Adam said softly. Harlan and Nigel turned to him.

          “You don’t?”

          “No.” Adam took a bite of his chicken before darting his eyes to Nigel, focusing somewhere over his left shoulder. “I want him to be smart enough to avoid the arrows when he’s protecting me.”

          After a moment of silence, Nigel crowed, falling off his chair he was laughing so hard. Adam beamed, Nigel always understood his jokes.

          Harlan took a piece of potato off his plate and threw it at Nigel. “This is your influence. He was a sweet boy before I took you in.”

          Nigel laughed harder, it made Adam huff softly too.

          When Nigel finally pulled himself together, and climbed back onto his chair, he smiled at Adam. The prince asked him about his spars and watched as Nigel reenacted the ones Adam missed, excitedly describing each blow as he brandished a drumstick like a sword.

          Adam laughed, clapping when Nigel mimed victory. When he looked across the table he saw Harlan studying him with a quiet smile.

          “What is it, Harlan?”

          The old knight shook the expression from his face, waving a hand in the air. “Nothing, it’s nothing. Mind wanders at my age, that’s all.”

          Adam nodded and went back to talking with Nigel. He didn’t mention it when Harlan’s quiet smile returned.

* * *

 

          Adam fiddled with his sleep clothes as he laid out texts along his table. Nigel was late. Technically, meeting with Harlan’s squire for two hours after both were supposed to be in bed was not a part of the official royal schedule, but Adam had found himself looking forward to the visits.

          It had begun a few months after Nigel came to live at the castle. Adam had heard a tapping on his door late at night and wandered to the door. Nigel had asked Adam if he had any books for beginners, something he could try to work out quietly as Harlan slept.

          The plan was terrible. Adam explained that to Nigel immediately, informing the squire that one needed a tutor to learn to read. He’d taken Nigel’s hand and pulled him into his chamber, sitting him at his grand table and excitedly showing him letters on a parchment.

          After six months, Nigel was picking his way through texts and tomes fairly well. Nigel preferred the histories of knights and ladies or grand adventures. Adam never enjoyed those stories before, but something about Nigel’s enthusiasm was infectious. He found he didn’t mind tales of high romance and daring fights against monsters when Nigel narrated them.

          There was a soft tap on his door. The odd warm sensation filled Adam again. He left the last book where it was and rushed his chamber threshold. Nigel’s smile was eye level when he cracked the heavy wooden door.

          “Just me,” He whispered.

          “Yes, I know,” said Adam, allowing Nigel to slip past. “You’re late.”

          “Can’t help it that the old man took forever to fall asleep tonight. He’s snoring good now. Shouldn’t miss me.” Nigel snorted, moving to the table. Adam wondered why they couldn’t just tell Harlan that Nigel wanted to learn to read. But Nigel insisted their lessons be kept secret. In truth, Adam rather enjoyed having a few hours of Nigel all to himself. “What are we reading tonight?”

          “I thought maybe the tale of Tristan and Isolde? I put some options out.”

          “That one have a happy ending?”

          Adam shook his head.

          Nigel squinted at the texts. “There one with a dragon?”

          Adam tapped a book to Nigel’s left. “The Golden Legend is the story of St. George.”

          “Fuck George, is there a dragon?”

          “Yes, Nigel.”

          “OK, let’s do that one.”

          Adam nodded and took his seat, heat suffusing his chest when Nigel edged his chair close and leaned into Adam’s space, opening the book. Nigel cleared his throat.

          “The holy and blessed Doctor S. J- J- uh,” Nigel’s halting narration stopped.

          “Try putting the pieces together.”

          Nigel sighed, his shoulders tensing. Adam let his hand rest on Nigel’s back, smiling when the muscles relented a little under the weight of his fingers. “J-Je? Je-rom?”

          Adam beamed. “Jerome! Yes!”

          Nigel smiled, his shoulders falling slightly. He squinted at the pages again. “Doctor S. Jerome sa-ith this a-a-athroty?”

          “Authority.”

          “Authority, right.” Nigel stretched his neck, the knotted scar tissue along his throat caught the light. “Do always some good work, to the end that the devil find thee not idle.”

          Adam hummed his approval as Nigel stumbled forward on the page. He let his fingers trace soft patterns in the rough material of Nigel’s tunic as the squire slogged through ten pages of the text. It was growing late and Adam felt himself nodding along with Nigel’s low voice.

          Adam blinked, then opened his eyes to the feeling of calloused hands lifting him.

          “Nigel?”

          “Nodded off, highness.” Nigel shifted his grip, lolling Adam’s head to rest over his heart. Adam listened to the rapid _thump thump thump_ below the squire’s pec. It was soothing. “Let’s get you in bed.”

          Adam felt himself being settled on his mattress, frowning when the warmth of Nigel retreated from him. He grabbed for it, his fingers landing on Nigel’s tunic and tugging. “Don’t go.”

          Nigel’s breathing stuttered. “What?”

          Adam yawned rolling to his side and scrunching under the covers to make room on his bed. “Read me some more. You just got to St. George.”

          “Here?” Nigel’s voice sounded high for some reason. Adam frowned. He liked it better when it was deep.

          “Do you want to go? I-if you’re tired I shouldn’t make you stay.”

          There was a long moment of silence. Adam wondered if Nigel had left. He turned to find the squire looking at him, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. Nigel’s hand reached out, then stopped short and redirected, grabbing the covers and tucking them around Adam’s shoulder.

          Nigel stepped away and through the bedchamber door. Adam felt a little stab of disappointment. Nigel must have been really tired, but Adam hadn’t wanted him to leave.

          He was surprised, when a moment later, Nigel returned. The Golden Legend and a candle were gripped in trembling fingers as Nigel made his way to the bed. Putting the candle on the nightstand, Nigel stood by the pillows, shifting awkwardly as he opened the text again.

          “S-saint George was a knight and born in Cap-Cap-Capdocka.”

          “Capadocia,” Adam muttered, turning to look at Nigel. “Why are you standing?”

          Nigel looked around the room as if he expected someone else to answer. “I, uh, I’ll get a chair.”

          “Just sit here,” Adam patted the vacant patch of bed. “There’s plenty of room. It’s a very comfortable bed.”

          Nigel stared at the bed with wide eyes. Adam frowned.

          “Are you ok, Nigel?” Adam thought of the curse. Of the queer things he did and said that made his father yell and Harlan frown. His chest started to tighten, his fingers flexing as they began to tap. “I said something, didn’t I? I’m sorry. It’s the curse. I know I’m wrong, but I didn’t mean to be. I can see I’ve upset you but I don’t know why. I was only trying-”

          Nigel flopped on the bed offering Adam a smile. “I upset myself, highness.”

          “Oh.” Adam laid his head back on the pillow, his body still tense. He didn’t understand the redness in Nigel’s face, but the squire had never lied to him. If he said he wasn’t angry, Adam believed him. “You’ll stay a bit longer?”

          In answer, Nigel cleared his throat. “On a time he came in to the province of Libya, to a city which is said Sil-silene. And by this city was a stag- _uh_ -stag-ne or a pond like a sea, wherein was a dragon which en-envy-enveynom-envenomed all the country. And on a time the people were assembled for to slay him, and when they saw him they fled.”

          Adam felt himself relax as Nigel read on, his muscles slowly losing their tension as Nigel lulled him to sleep. When he dreamed, it was of Nigel slaying a great dragon and Adam thanking him by laying a wreath of flowers around the squire’s neck.

          The short song of a blackcap stirred Adam from a deep sleep. Blinking into the darkness of his room, he could barely discern the chubby bird sitting on his windowsill. If the blackcap was up, the dawn chorus would surely begin soon. That meant Adam had slept in, nearly a half hour later than he normally did.

          Even though he was late in rising, Adam felt no need to rush from where he lay. He felt warm and wonderfully compressed in his bed. He didn’t want to leave it. As he stretched slightly, Adam noticed the cause. Nigel slumped over Adam, his strong arm wrapped over Adam’s chest, book still loosely clasped in his fingers. Nigel’s breath came out in soft puffs, stirring the hair behind Adam’s ears. The prince found he rather liked the sensation.

          He knew he should wake Nigel. Knew the squire would want to get back to the chambers he shared with Harlan before the knight woke. Knew that legends of the curse would compound if one of the maids caught sight of Nigel in his bed.

          And yet.

          Adam found all of those reasons seemed meager when weighed against the comforting pressure of Nigel’s arm. He closed his eyes. He’d wake Nigel when the dawn chorus began.

* * *

 

          “What is all this?” Nigel picked his way to Adam, carefully stepping over the piles of gold, books, and fine fabrics that littered his chamber. Harlan followed close behind, smiling at the mess in Adam’s room.

          Adam looked up from a new book. “It’s my birthday, I’m 16. These are all from father.”

          Adam’s father had followed the long procession of presents into Adam’s room. Adam looked forward to the little ceremony every year, as it was one of the few times he saw his father. Traditionally, King Raki would bestow the presents upon Adam and sup with him before leaving the prince to his lonely chamber. This year, however, Adam had balked at the idea of eating venison stew and his father had stormed from the room the moment Adam’s fingers began nervously tapping on the table.

          The prince had panicked for a few moments, heaving great breaths as he rocked himself. Servants had cleared the tables, casting worried looks at the boy and avoiding touching him at all costs. Adam had calmed himself by thinking about supper, and the promise that Nigel and Harlan would eat with him – and wouldn’t mind roast chicken.

           “You get this every year?” Nigel’s eyes were wide as he poked at a golden cross.

          “Every April 19th, yes.” Adam frowned. “Well, not the same things. The presents vary, but they all arrive on the same day .”

          Nigel nodded, studying a piece of embroidered silk, brow furrowed. Adam watched as Nigel carefully inspected everything, marveling at all the treasures in the prince’s room. It occurred to Adam that Nigel had probably never seen piles of silks and golden trinkets, the thought made his gut churn lightly.

          “When’s your birthday?”

          “What?”

          “My birthday is today. Harlan’s is May 3rd. When is yours?”

          Nigel shrugged. “Dunno.”

          Adam frowned at this new information. “I don’t understand. How do you know how old you are if you don’t have a birthday?”

          Nigel kept his eyes down, worrying the fine silk between his fingers. “Nuns said I was seven when they took me in. There have been 10 winters since then, I think.”

          Adam looked at Harlan, who frowned but shook his head. Adam shouldn’t ask any more questions, then. But he wanted to. Adam was impossibly curious about Nigel, the scar on his neck, the odd things he’d murmur when he fell asleep after reading lessons in Adam’s bed, the funny way he’d smile at Adam then flush red when he saw Harlan watching them. There was so much Adam wanted to know.

          “You have to have a birthday,” Adam said finally, nodding to himself.

          “When?”

          Adam watched Nigel again, the squire had left the piles of fine cloth to peer at Adam’s books. His reading was smoother now, and most nights they’d get through nearly half a book before falling asleep in Adam’s big bed. Nigel looked up as though he could hear Adam’s thoughts, offering the prince a wink, his large hands tapping on a new volume of Arthurian legend. Adam smiled, he knew Nigel would like that book.

          “How about November?” Adam broke the eye contact first. It was hard for him to maintain it, even with his friend.

          “Why November?”

          “That’s when Lupus emerges in the night sky.”

          “Lupus?”

          “The wolf constellation.” Both boys jumped at Harlan’s voice. Adam had forgotten he was in the room. “When you two are done, Nigel and I have a present for you.”

          Adam blinked. “You do?”

          Nigel smiled, his face turning a little red. “It’s nothing compared to all this.”

          Harlan let his hand fall heavy on Nigel’s shoulder, squeezing it. “He came up with it himself when I asked him for an idea. I was just going to get you a new book.”

          Adam felt warm again, and his heart did a funny triple beat. He frowned, the curse made him feel so odd sometimes. “I’d like to see, please.”

          “We have to wait ‘til after dark.” Nigel said, his cheeks growing warmer as Harlan smiled.

* * *

 

Adam wasn’t sure why sneaking out of the palace was a birthday present. When he’d done it, Harlan and his father had yelled. But that action had also gotten him Nigel, so perhaps sneaking out wasn’t so bad after all. He had followed Nigel and Harlan as they crept to the livery, Nigel softly assuring him that dinner would only be a little late.

          Harlan’s horse, Amin, was hitched to a small cart in the courtyard. Molly held the reins and smiled at Adam when he waved.

          “Happy birthday, Sire.”

          “Thank you, Molly!” Adam looked at the horse. “You’re giving me Amin? I don’t like horses, Harlan.”

          Harlan sighed. “Get your royal rump in the cart before I decide this isn’t worth the risk.”

          Adam obeyed, sitting between Nigel and Harlan. Bumping along, Adam found himself growing nervous. It was late for dinner, he didn’t like late dinners. He tried to focus on deep breaths, as Harlan had taught him, but he felt panic rising in his chest. His fingers started to tap as he shifted in his seat.

          A warm hand covered one of Adam’s. Nigel smiled giving him a light squeeze. “I know we’re late, but we have dinner in the cart and I promise this will be worth it.”

          Adam looked up at Nigel, his heart _thump-thump-thumping_ quickly when their eyes connected. He continued to rock, but heat began to radiate from where Nigel still rested his hand upon Adam’s thigh.

          Nigel frowned at Adam’s reaction, his fingers starting to rub wonderful circles into the prince’s flesh.

          “If you don’t like it, we’ll go right home Adam, I promise.” Nigel lifted his hand to tug at one of Adam’s curls. “But you’re gonna like it.”

          Adam smiled. Things were always OK if Nigel pulled his hair. That’s what the squire did when he was feeling happy.

          The trio clopped on into the night, through the village and out to a great meadow just before the border of the forbidden forest. Adam’s father forbid anyone from entering the forest, having all roads from the village circumnavigate the large landmass. The field was empty, as proximity to such a fearful place was considered bad luck as well. Legend had it that it was filled with bandits, black magic, and bears.

          But Adam didn’t worry about the forest, he was too busy gazing at the sky. Far from the village and castle the stars seemed closer, more vibrant in a blacker night. He squinted, then squeezed Nigel’s hand, pointing to the sky.

          “Do you see that band? That lighter color there? That’s what I was trying to show you in my room. I’ve been looking at it for years, I think it’s a celestial body that holds other celestial bodies. It’s so much brighter here. So distinct. I wish I had my refracting lens so I could-”

          “Good thing we brought it then, isn’t it?” Harlan said with a smile, pulling Amin to a halt. Adam turned to Harlan and threw his arms around the old knight’s neck. He rarely hugged anyone, the sensation of forced closeness made him uncomfortable, but he wanted Harlan to understand just how happy he was. Adam shook slightly when Harlan laughed, his strong hands lightly patting Adam on the back. “Alright now, you go pick a spot, Nigel will get your book and your lens, I’ll grab the food.”

          Adam darted off under the stars, looking for a place where he could settle and sketch. In the distance, he heard the sounds of Harlan and Nigel laughing as they followed him.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, wasn't Sea Voices' art the greatest? 
> 
> Next Week: Nigel's POV and a tournament!


	3. The Prince's Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nigel's turn for a POV: A fight, a tournament, Darko finally shows up, a date, and a birthday!

The sound of the breath being knocked from Charles’ lungs was all the encouragement Nigel needed to forget about his throbbing ribs and lunge forward. He’d already unseated Joles and Ethan easily during this training session, the other squires not daring to challenge him.

          In the seven months since Adam’s birthday, Nigel had trained hard. He pestered Harlan for advice on his stances and attacks. He watched the other boys closely as they scrapped, noting weaknesses and faults in their defenses. He memorized every challenge and victory he earned, so he could show Adam how he’d won over dinner or during their reading lessons.

          Now, it was becoming easy to win. Only Charles, with the tattered ear and sneering smile, could still best Nigel on occasion. 

          But not today.

          Not with Adam clapping happily beside Harlan in the courtyard. Cheering for the Wolf and calling out that he should keep his shoulder up. Charles hit the ground hard when Nigel threw his shield into his faulds, causing the boy to buckle.

          Nigel was on him before he could roll over, blade pressed to the soft spot beneath Charles’ chin.

          “Yield.”

          “You fight without honor,” spat Charles. “Like an animal.”

          “Yield,” snarled Nigel. “Or I’ll take your other fucking ear.”

          He pressed the blade tighter to Charles’ throat.

          “I YIELD!”

          “Good dog,” Nigel whispered, before turning to smile at his prince. Adam was standing, clapping loudly next to Harlan. The sight of his prince so excited for his victory made Nigel flush hot inside his armor. He’d take more than a few blows to the ribs to earn one of Adam’s smiles.

          He made his way toward his lord. If he sat by Adam’s feet in the dirt, the boy would toy with his hair and fuss over his cuts and bruises. It was Nigel’s favorite part of sparring.

          He stopped dead when he heard echoing clapping and surprised murmurs behind him. He whirled to find King Raki standing at the mouth of the courtyard, a smile on his face.

          “Well fought, young man!” The king stepped forward. Everyone but Adam hit their knees. Nigel shot a look at Harlan, eyes wide. _Head down_ mouthed the older knight.

          When he felt a tap on his shoulder, Nigel looked up. He’d only seen the king from the back of the court and Adam’s balcony before. Up close, the man was less intimidating, lithe of limb like his son. He had Adam’s nose and hair, with a beard covering his chin. Nigel knew he should be focused on the words coming from the king’s mouth, but all he could think about was the fact that Adam must have gotten those beautiful eyes from the queen.

          “…to join the king’s guard.”

          Nigel blinked. He missed it all. He turned to look at Harlan in a panic only to see the old knight making his way to Nigel as quickly as he could.

          “I’m not sure he’s ready for such an honor, your majesty,” Harlan said as he settled into a kneel by Nigel’s side. Nigel heard the older knight’s knees creak as he moved and worried that this was too much up and down for Harlan’s battle worn joints.

          “He looked like a cracking fighter to me.”

          “Yes, sire,” Harlan nodded. “But he’s a boy, yet. Still mouthy and undisciplined. Perhaps we should have a tournament to see which of the squires should join your guard?”

          “A tournament!” King Raki clapped his hands. “Wonderful! It’s been ages since we’ve had a good tournament.”

          It had been a month, as Nigel recalled, but he felt Harlan bump him hard before he could open his mouth.

          “Harlan, Gunther, Edwin, Laurence – choose your best boys to battle for a spot on my guard. I’ll have my knights choose from their squires as well. We’ll see who has the courage to earn a place among my men!” The king turned, proclamation finished, only to pause and squint into the courtyard. “Adam?”

          “Hello, father!”

          “What are you doing here?”

          Adam flexed his fingers and started to tap, but seemed to force his hands to still when the king frowned. Nigel wanted to capture those stiff hands and kiss the life back into them. “I watch the squires spar every afternoon after my lessons.”

          The king turned to Harlan, eyebrows furrowed. Harlan held his hands up. “I know your majesty prefers his highness to read in his chambers, but watching the men spar seems to do him good. He’s been an excellent observer and enjoys cheering for the squires.”

          Nigel felt a snarl curling his lip. How fucking dare this man keep the most wonderful treasure in all the land locked in a dark room at the far end of the castle?

          “And there have been no… oddities?”

          “None, sir.”

          Nigel turned. Sir Gunther of Perk had spoken. Nigel wanted to hug him, even if his squire was a twat.

          “Alright then,” the king murmured, before putting on a big smile. “Practice well, boys, for in a fortnight’s time, we shall decide who will take his place by my side.”

          As the king left, the squires bounded to their knights, all vying to be chosen for the tournament. Nigel stood, offering Harlan a discrete hand when the knight tottered to his feet.

          “You’ll have to choose,” Harlan said, clapping Nigel on the shoulder.

          “Choose what?” Nigel frowned at Harlan. “I can beat these cunts. Even Charles is afraid of me since I took his ear. I’ll fucking win this before King Raki’s royal ass gets tired sitting in the stands.”

          “I know you could win it, son. But you better think long and hard about whether you want to or not.”

          Nigel cocked his head, eyebrows knitted. “What the fuck are you on about, old man?”

          Harlan sighed, giving Nigel that look. The look that said Nigel was still an addle-brained street dog sometimes. Nigel hated that look. “If you win this tournament, you’ll have the finest women, armor, and horses for the rest of your life.”

          “Yeah, I’ll have to think hard about whether or not to win.”

          Harlan smacked him in the side of the head. Nigel snarled, but said nothing. “You’ll have all that, but you won’t have Adam. You’ll be sworn to his father instead.”

          Nigel’s mouth went dry. “But Adam will be king. And I’ll already be a king’s guard.”

          “That’s true. You will serve him again,” said Harlan with a sad smile. “In 15 years or so. It’s not so long if you’re patient, I suppose.”

          Harlan walked off on stiff legs, leaving Nigel to stare after him. He’d worked hard to become a good knight for the better part of two years. He’d spent hours taking brutal beatings with dulled blades and fists until he grew strong and ruthless as a fighter. He’d picked carefully through long words in texts he didn’t care about because knights had to learn to read. Nigel had worked himself to the bone to be the best knight in the kingdom.

          But he hadn’t done all this to be separated from Adam. He’d thought he’d been working to kneel under a fluttering blue gaze and the thought of losing it, for a day or fifteen years was nearly unbearable.

          He jumped when he felt someone take his hand, glancing to see Adam smiling and tugging him gently to the bench. He nodded as Adam chattered about the king and Nigel’s great success in court, but he could barely understand a word.

* * *

 

          “Orion is emerging into the sky more prominently,” Adam muttered, leaning off the balcony to peer at the night sky through his lens. Nigel feared that one day the boy would lean too far and topple to the ground, so he sat close, his body resting along the prince’s leg.

          “Got it.” Nigel said, making a notation in the book.

          Adam pulled himself in and blinked at the page. “You’ve been practicing your letters.”

          Nigel ducked his head, feeling his cheeks heat. He had spent weeks holding a stick and making letters in the dirt after Adam told him his writing was poor. Hearing the boy notice his efforts did funny things to the squire’s heart. “Just a couple of times.”

          “I can read all the words now. Even the misspelled ones.” Adam smiled, stretching. “Should we read for a bit?”

          Read.

          Nigel could go through a book a night now, words no longer a complex series of runes and he couldn’t decipher. But practicing reading meant slipping into Adam’s bed and waking up with his arms full of sweet-smelling royal. He’d sneak away back to Harlan and his snores at the first chirp of a lark, but Nigel couldn’t think of a better way to while away the nights.

          The worst part, and the best part, were how chaste these nights were. Nigel knew better to hope for anything more than the chance to hold his lord for a few hours. Occasionally, Nigel would chance brushing his lips through Adam’s sleep mussed curls, his heart rabbiting when Adam would stir and mumble something indistinct before slipping back to peaceful silence.

          Nigel thought of all the tales he read to Adam, of Lancelot and Tristan, and of courtly loves that could never be.

          It was torture and it was bliss.

          Nigel shook his head, he was reading too many fucking love stories.

          “Nigel?”

          Nigel looked up. Adam was crouched over him, head cocked and a confused smile on his lips.

          “Sorry, highness,” Nigel ducked his head, before moving to follow Adam to his bedchamber. Harlan would probably throw him back into the alleys if he knew where his mind went whenever the little prince was concerned.

          Adam too, probably.

          Nigel paused, watching Adam climb into bed and move aside, giving Nigel the lion’s share of his big mattress.

          No, Adam wouldn’t throw him to the streets, his darling prince didn’t have that kind of cruelty in him. He’d probably explain to Nigel that princes didn’t marry squires, pat him on the shoulder, and go on with his day. That was the reason Nigel was in this predicament to begin with.

          “What should you read tonight?” Adam asked, gesturing to a pile of books beside the bed.

          Nigel smiled, his fingers clenching around Adam’s sheets to keep from pushing them through the prince’s hair. “How about a love story?”

* * *

 

          Nigel woke with a start. He blinked, trying to decipher what roused him. There were no birds chirping, the sky still black as pitch beyond Adam’s chamber window.

          Then, he felt it again.

          A light stroke along his neck, nimble fingers tracing the gnarled flesh that snaked along his throat. He squinted in the darkness. He couldn’t see Adam’s face, just the vague outline of curly hair.

          “Adam?”

          The fingers flexed against his skin, Adam made a small noise before moving his hand along Nigel’s neck.

          “How did you get this?” Adam’s fingers traced the scar again, Nigel felt like Adam had lit his flesh on fire.

          “My-” Nigel cleared his throat, chasing the sleep and arousal from his voice. “My father didn’t need another mouth to feed after my mother died.”

          “Your father?”

          Nigel stretched his neck, arching into the soft touch. “He wasn’t trying to be cruel, just thought I’d be better off dead.”

          “But you lived.”

          Nigel smiled in the dark. “I did at that, Sire.”

          “How?”

          “A peddler found me, holding my throat together as I stumbled about. He took me to the nuns.” Nigel swallowed, feeling Adam’s hand ride out the motion. “They sewed me up, gave me last rights. They didn’t feed me for a few days, until they realized I’d likely live. Then they gave me porridge until I could stand on my own.”

          “Oh.”

          “I liked Sister Ignatius, but I didn’t like all the bible stuff, so the second I could walk, I left.”

          “Where did you go?”

          “Pretty much where you found me,” Nigel laughed. “That was my alley you wandered down, Sire.”

          “I’m pretty sure it’s my alley, or at least my father’s.”

          Nigel smiled in the dark. He desperately wanted to kiss Adam’s hand. “We could share it, yeah?”

          “OK.”

          Nigel let his eyes droop closed, Adam’s fingers still mapping the scar. After a few moments of blissful petting, Nigel swallowed. “Is it bad?”

          “Is what bad?”

          "The, uh, the scar.” Nigel swallowed. “Is it bad to look at?”

          “No. I like it.” Adam’s fingers pressed harder into Nigel’s neck. “I can always feel it and know you’re near, even in the dark.”

          Nigel’s chest constricted painfully, he let his arm tighten just a little around Adam’s waist. “Adam… do you… I… I don’t think I should fight in the tournament.”

          Adam’s fingers stopped. He moved to sit and Nigel wanted to cry when he lost the prince’s heat against his body.

          “Nigel, you have to fight!”

          Nigel couldn’t see Adam’s face in the dark, but he could tell from the tone that there was a frown tugging at his prince’s mouth.

          “But what if I win?”

          “Of course you’ll win!” Adam tapped Nigel on the chest. “Your only competition is Charles, and he’s terrified of you after you bit off his ear.”

          Nigel grinned at the memory.

          “B-besides, I would f-feel good if you guarded my father,” Nigel could see Adam’s shadow rocking a little in bed. “I’d know he was safe with you... He’d like my friend. It would almost be like he liked me.”

          Nigel reached out, his hand landing on Adam’s shoulder and rocking gently with him.

          “You sure?”

          “Yes.”

          “Will you come cheer for me?” Nigel thought about Sir Degrevant, laying a crown of flowers on Melydor’s head after he won the right to her heart in a tournament.

          “No.” Adam’s body rocked harder, his fingers tapping on the blankets. “I don’t like crowds, and it upsets father when I appear in public. T-the curse makes me-”

          Nigel pulled at Adam, bringing him back to the mattress and wrapping his arms tightly around the prince. He smiled when Adam relaxed into his embrace. “I’ll win that fucking tournament. But only because you asked.”

          Adam wrapped an arm around Nigel, squeezing the squire tight. "Thank you." 

* * *

 

          Charles was in fine form during the final round, but Nigel was better. He could see the squire tiring, his attacks getting slower as the sun baked them in their armor. Even the crowd had turned on Charles, cheers for the Wolf had begun echoing through the grounds. It wouldn’t be long now, Charles would give him the opening he needed.

          The other rounds of the tournament had gone fast, Nigel and Charles making quick work of their competition. Harlan had frowned through each round, giving Nigel disapproving looks every time he felled an opponent. He’d tried to tell his mentor that he was doing as Adam requested, but Harlan just frowned harder. To distract himself, Nigel pictured Adam in the stands, smiling and waving at him.

          It almost made the ache in his chest go away.

          Now, only one man stood between him and fulfilling Adam’s wishes.

          “You alright, Charlie?” Nigel taunted as he swiped at the squire. “You look a little tired.”

          “Fuck off, dog!” Charles swung his blade wide and Nigel knocked him to the ground.

          The crowd roared, and Nigel advanced, ready to end this. He held his sword aloft when he heard it.

          “Huzzah!”

          It was against everything Harlan had beaten into his thick skull, but Nigel turned anyway. He scanned the crowd, but saw nothing.

          “Hail Nigel the Wolf!”

          Nigel's eyes followed the voice to the livery workers, sweeping past horses and blacksmiths until he found Adam.

          The prince was at the far end of the crowd, next to Molly as she brushed Sir Gunther’s bay. Adam looked miserable, his body tense and his arms wrapped tight around himself, but he smiled bright and genuine when Nigel met his eyes. The prince was rocking on his heels, but tore a hand away from his middle to wave at Nigel.

          Nigel raised his hand, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

          “Come on, dog! You haven’t finished me!” Nigel turned to see Charles back on his feet, squaring off against him.

          “Just waiting to take your other ear,” Nigel snarled. He raised his blade, and dropped his shoulder. He could see the moment Charles spotted the defensive weakness and braced himself – this was going to hurt.

* * *

 

          Nigel lay in the kitchen, where the healer poked at his leg The eight-inch gash along his thigh had been cauterized with a poker from the oven as Nigel bit onto a leather strap and screamed. Charles had tried to take his head, Nigel deflecting the blow at the last minute – it could have been worse.

          He closed his eyes, focusing on anything but the burning salve the healer had slathered on the wound. The king had sent his personal doctor to see to the gash, _a reward for a tournament well lost_ , he had said.

          When a delicate hand squeezed his shoulder through the tunic, Nigel opened his eyes.

          “You dropped your shoulder again,” Adam said, fingers petting along the stiff fabric.

          “I’m sorry,” Nigel croaked, closing his eyes when Adam’s fingers found the scar on his neck. “I wanted to make you proud.”

          “I am proud,” Adam said in his matter-of-fact way. “You’re the second-best knight in all the kingdom.”

          “Squire, highness. I’m just a squire.”

          Adam smiled at that, eyes catching Nigel’s just long enough to make the older boy’s heart leap.

          “I don’t like it here,” Adam announced. “That salve smells horrid and there are too many people.”

          Adam turned and walked to the door, pausing before he slipped into the hallway. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

          The healer patted Nigel’s flank. “You’re done. Try to stay off it. Keep the wrappings clean. If you see maggots, come and find me.”

          Nigel’s lip curled at the thought, but he nodded. He started to limp toward his chambers when Harlan stepped in front of him. Nigel moved to go around him, but Harlan side-stepped, keeping Nigel from forward momentum. The old knight had a queer look on his face as he studied Nigel.

          “What?”

          Harlan’s mouth twisted into a small smile, but his eyes were sad. “I’ve never been prouder of you than I was today, Nigel.”

          Nigel felt his throat constrict. He dropped his eyes. It was bad enough to lose to that cunt Charlie, he’d be damned if anyone saw him get teary-eyed today. “I lost.”

          “I know,” Harlan’s voice sounded hoarse. Nigel looked up just in time to be pulled into a hug. He froze, having no goddamn idea how to react to such a thing from Harlan. After a moment, Harlan patted Nigel’s back and released him, clearing his throat. “Get some rest, Adam’ll be waiting for you at dinner.”

          Harlan turned on his heel and fled the embarrassing emotional display as fast as his stiff legs would take him, leaving Nigel to glare in confusion at the old man’s back.

* * *

 

          The next day, Charles of Countrymen was sworn into service in the king’s guard. Nigel skipped the ceremony, Harlan telling the members of the court that inquired that the squire's leg was still mending. Nigel could hear the trumpets from his bed as the celebration began. He rolled, shoving a pillow over his face to drown the noise out.

          “Does the noise bother you?”

          Adam sat on the edge of Nigel’s bed, his sudden appearance making Nigel squawk and thrash, pulling at his wound. Adam dropped a hand to Nigel's leg, stilling it.

          “It’s not the noise, it’s the man,” Nigel grumbled. “Little twat. He’ll be fucking insufferable now.”

          “You won’t see him much, he’ll be busy with my father.”

          “Thank fuck for that.”

          “There won’t be any trumpets at your ceremony,” Adam said, his hand beginning to softly stroke Nigel’s thigh.

          “What ceremony?” Nigel thought about Sister Ignatius and her withered face, anything to keep his cock from responding to the maddening touch.

          “Yours.” Adam smiled. “I asked my father if I could add you to my personal guard, since Harlan’s getting older. He agreed.”

          Nigel blinked.

          “There won’t be trumpets, but I did ask Harlan to ask cook to make you the cherry cakes you like so much.”

          “Adam-” But he didn’t know what to say. The idea of swearing himself to his prince, of knowing there would always be a place for him by Adam’s side, there was nothing better in the world.

          “O-oh, d-do you not want to?” Adam retracted his hand and stood. “H-Harlan said you’d like it when I suggested it. I-I’m sorry. You can try for the King’s Guard again. Father will likely hold another tournament in a month.”

          Nigel grabbed for Adam, his leg burning when he finally snagged the prince’s fine robe. “Adam. Adam, look at me.”

          The prince’s eye flicked to his, then to a spot somewhere behind Nigel’s head. Nigel tugged at Adam until he was closer. Nigel wanted to wrap his arms around the boy and bury his face in Adam’s stomach. Instead, he caught one of the tapping hands and brought it to his lips.

          “I don’t deserve it, Adam.” The fingers in his grip twitched, but made no move for release. “You deserve a champion.”

          “I want a wolf.” Adam’s hand squeezed back, briefly, before he stepped back. “I don’t want any other knight, Nigel.”

          Nigel nodded, smiling. “Thank you, highness.”

          “When do you think you’ll be able to kneel?”

          Nigel frowned. “What?”

          “You’ll have to kneel to be knighted.” Adam said, slightly exasperated. He gestured to Nigel’s swollen leg. “And you can’t kneel now.”

          Nigel smiled. “Give me a week and I’ll fall at your feet whenever you command it.”

          Adam smiled. “A week. I’ll have Harlan tell cook.”

          The prince moved to the door, but paused before opening it. “D-do you think you’ll be able to read in a week?”

          Nigel blushed. He had seriously considered dragging himself to Adam’s chambers last night when Harlan’s snores rang loud and there was no warm boy in his arms to drown out the din. “Sooner. I don’t need to kneel to read.”

          Adam nodded, his smile widening as he slipped out the door.

* * *

 

          In seven days, Nigel gingerly lowered himself to his knee before Adam. Harlan snorted beside him.

          “You move like me, now.”

          Nigel smiled at the old man, who winked at him.

          True to Adam’s word, there were no trumpets at the ceremony. They weren’t even in the great hall. The king thought it more appropriate for Adam’s ceremony to take place in a less public venue.

          So, Nigel knelt, in the second-best ballroom, on the far end of the castle, only Adam, and a handful of the kitchen staff to see him honored. Sir Gunther had attended, telling Nigel he’d become a fine fighter and should have had Charles in that last round.

          Nigel had nodded, knowing in his bones that he’d won the prize he wanted.

          Adam cleared his throat, his crown rested at an odd angle on his head. The prince didn’t like the weight of it and kept pushing it around his curls. Nigel smiled at the askew golden crown, so perfectly Adam in its charming oddness.

          “Will you offer me your fealty?” Adam said, voice loud but monotone. “If you do, then swear it now to me.”

          Nigel smiled, looking directly into Adam’s eyes. He’d been practicing these words since Adam had read them to him in one of the Arthurian tales. “I promise on my faith that I will in the future be faithful to Prince Adam of Raki, never cause him harm, and will observe my homage to him completely, against all persons in good faith and without deceit.”

          Adam smiled, before raising a ridiculously ornate sword. He wobbled slightly under the weight before gently lowering it on each of Nigel’s shoulders.

          “Rise, Sir Nigel of Lup.”

          Nigel paused, frowning in confusion.

          “It means wolf,” Harlan whispered.

          Nigel grinned, ignoring the searing pain in his thigh as he stood. When Harlan offered him a handshake, Nigel noticed King Raki standing in the corner of the ballroom, appraising his son with a small frown.

* * *

 

          “Highness?” Nigel walked into the livery with his brows furrowed. He hadn’t seen Harlan or Adam for hours. It was dinner time, and Nigel was anxious to find his makeshift family so he could sup. The only clue to their whereabouts had been a note left on Adam’s chamber door.

          _Stable_ it had said in Harlan’s blocky lettering.

          Nigel could hear voices talking softly among the neighs and whinnies. When Nigel approached, two candles ignited, and he could see Adam and Harlan, faces carved into jack-o-lantern smiles by the flames.

          “Happy birthday!” Both men said at once.

          Nigel frowned.

          “What?”

          “You wouldn’t pick a birthday, so Harlan picked one for you.” Adam smiled, setting the candles by the tack. Nigel could see a cherry cake on Molly’s worktable and a dram of the good whiskey Harlan bought once a year.

          “November 13,” Harlan said, with a smile. “It was my brother’s birthday.”

          Nigel had been prepared to make a smart comment, but stopped short. Harlan had never spoken of his brother, but Nigel had heard the stories. The battle of Keyes had ended with Harlan earning a knighthood and collecting whatever pieces of his brother he could find for burial.

          Nigel swallowed hard before saying, “Thank you.”

          “You’re 18 now, I think,” Adam said, oblivious as always to the emotion in the room. “You could be older, but we’ve decided upon 18, right?”

          Harlan nodded.

          “Alright, but why are we in the stables, highness?” Nigel cocked his head while he studied Adam. “You don’t like horses.”

          Adam bounced on his toes, just once before turning to Harlan. “You first.”

          Harlan stepped forward and offered Nigel something wrapped in burlap. It was heavy, and Nigel carefully cradled it as he unwrapped the cloth.

          Even in the low light of the livery, the sword gleamed. It was made from fine steel, which accounted for its weight. A leather sheath protecting the sharp edges as Nigel held it up to the light. On the hilt was carved a snarling wolf.

          Nigel’s breath caught. He’d never been given anything so fine in his life. He wondered how Harlan could afford such a treasure. He looked up at the old knight, eyes wide.

          “Close your mouth before you catch a fly,” Harlan said, his cheeks flushing as he ducked Nigel’s gaze. “You needed a better blade. My old one was too light for you, probably why you lost the tournament.”

          Nigel smiled, still awestruck. “But the cost-”

          “A prince’s knight needs a good sword.” Harlan rubbed the back of his neck. “Just don’t go naming it like an asshole.”

          “I think I’ll call it _Old Bastard_ ,” Nigel raised an eyebrow.

          Harlan huffed, but there was no malice in it. “I think _Ungrateful Shit_ has a better ring to it.”  

          Adam frowned. “Those are both terrible names for a sword.”

          “I’ll have to think on it, then,” Nigel said with a smile. “We ready for dinner?”

          “B-But you haven’t seen my present yet.”

          Nigel’s heart leaped. A token, from Adam. He hoped it was a tunic with the Raki crest, something to mark him as belonging to the prince.

          “He’s uh, he’s here.” Adam pointed to his left and there was a huffing noise from the stall.

          Nigel’s mouth dropped open as he stepped closer. In the stall was a large black forest horse, dark coat rippling over strong muscles. The horse looked at him before tossing his white mane and kicking the stall door.

          “Adam, he’s-”

          “Every knight needs a trusty steed.” Adam frowned. “Though I don’t know if he’s trusty, but he’s big and strong.”

          Nigel held out a hand, the horse rubbed his muzzle into it, stomping.

          “What will you name him?” Adam asked, standing next to Nigel, but avoiding the horse’s nose.

          “How about Amin Junior?” Harlan teased.

          Nigel shook his head, stepping closer running his hand through the white mane. “The white against the black, it looks like your celestial body, highness.”

          “That thing we saw in the fields?” Harlan asked.

          “It’s easier to see it away from town, when the sky is dark.”

          Nigel rubbed the horse’s neck, “Dark Skies…What do you think, boy? Is that a good name? Nigel the Wolf and his Dark Skies. I’ll call you, Darko for short.” 

          The horse nipped Nigel's arm. Nigel swatted at the horse, a crooked smile on his lips.

          “Cheeky fucker.”

* * *

 

          “What do you mean you’re not coming?” Nigel shoved Adam’s lens into Darko’s saddle bag.

          Harlan shrugged. “It’s easier to sneak two out than three.”

          “We’ve snuck three out for months.”

          “The damp isn’t good for me,” Harlan said with a frown. “It makes my bones ache.”

          Nigel faltered. He worried about the old man. It wouldn’t do to have him laid up because of their monthly stargazing missions.

          “Maybe we should cancel then.” Nigel’s fingers drummed along Darko’s haunch. “Adam will-”

          “Adam wants to go stargazing,” Harlan interrupted. “And he’s got a fine night to do it. You’re his guard now, I think you can protect him from the foxes in the field without me.”

          Nigel nodded. In truth, the idea of laying with Adam beneath the stars, without the watchful gaze of Harlan excited and terrified him. “Alright, go rest by the fire, old man. I’ll get him home in one piece.”

          As Nigel walked toward Adam’s chamber, he caught the expression on Harlan’s face – a smile, clear as day. He thought to question the old man about it, but shook his head and kept moving.

* * *

 

          “Come on, gorgeous, you don’t want me to starve, do you?” Nigel leaned over the counter offering Gabi his brightest smile. She returned it with a sly twist of her mouth.

          “You look healthy enough to me.”

          “Do I?” His smile widened. “Then give me something to keep me that way.”

          Gabi laughed, plucking four of the lemon cakes from a basket and wrapping them in a bit of cloth. She offered them to Nigel. “For the growing Wolf of Raki.”

          “Thanks, gorgeous.” Nigel offered her a wink before tearing out of the kitchen.

          Adam was waiting on the other side of the doorway, frowning. “You could have just told her they were for me. She would have given them to you without question.”

          Nigel raised an eyebrow as they headed for the stable. “Where’s the fun in that?”

          “Is it fun?”

          “What?”

          “Flirting with Gabriella,” Adam sped up a little, Nigel hurried to match his pace. “Is that fun?”

          “Sure.”

          They walked in silence to the stable, Adam’s fingers tapping on his thighs. When Nigel packed the food on Darko’s back, Adam caught his arm.

          “You could marry her, you know,” Adam released Nigel’s arm and went back to tapping on his thighs. “I’m pretty sure I could grant it to you.”

          Nigel froze, what in the hell had given Adam such a wild idea? Flirting was just some harmless fun. A way to let off some steam so he didn’t do something stupid, like kiss the crowned prince of Raki. “I don’t want to marry Gabi, Adam.”

          “Oh.” Adam’s hands stopped. Nigel could swear the boy let out a held breath. “Well, if you do want to marry someone, let me know.”

          Nigel smiled, grabbing Adam by the waist and helping him onto Darko’s back. “I’ll let you know if someone comes to mind.”

* * *

 

          The ride to the field had been torture. Adam pressed against Nigel’s back, muttering about the smell of horses and the journey taking too long. His nimble fingers tapped at Nigel’s waist, digging in whenever Nigel spurred Darko to speed up.

          Nigel almost fell off Darko when he felt the prince’s chin come to a rest on his shoulder.

          “I want to go further west,” Adam said, his breath brushing along Nigel’s ear. The knight clenched Darko’s reins for dear life. “I think we should have a clear view of Lupus if we do.”

          Nigel nodded, praying Adam’s fingers didn’t dip any lower, to where his cock tented his tunic.

          When they arrived at a spot Adam found acceptable, Nigel helped his prince down and fled to the other side of Darko, under the guise of unpacking the horse. Adam, as sweetly oblivious as ever, wandered a few feet away, face pointed to the stars.

          “He’s going to fucking kill me, Darko,” Nigel whispered to the horse. He was swatted with a bristly tail for the confession.

          Nigel had just about convinced his body to listen to him when he finished laying out the blanket and cakes. To be safe, he waited for Adam to take a seat and chose a corner of the blanket that kept him as far from temptation as possible.

          He was listening to Adam discuss the position of Lupus, dutifully writing down all the prince said in his star chart when the first bite came.

          “FUCK! Fuck off you fucking nag!” Nigel swatted at Darko, who had apparently decided that grazing wasn’t as fun as biting his master. The horse snapped at Nigel again, but the knight ducked. He scooted away from the horse only to be pursued. The horse kept nipping at Nigel’s arms until the knight found himself pressed against Adam.

          The prince turned to look at Nigel, now flat against his side, before frowning at Darko. “Stop that! He’ll spill ink on our chart.”

          Darko snorted, going back to the sweet grass. Nigel tried to move, but Adam’s weight fell against him before he could. The prince’s head leaned against his shoulder, eye still glued to his lens as he looked to the sky. Nigel reached up, tugging on a few strands.

          “Here,” Adam shifted his glass to Nigel’s face. “See? Lupus!”

          Nigel took the glass and held it to before him, humming, but his eyes never left Adam’s face.

* * *

 

          Nigel paced outside of Adam’s chamber, his sword smacking against his boots every time he turned.

          “Would you cease?” Harlan sat on a chair, frowning. “I’m exhausted just watching you.”

          “What’s happening in there?”

          Harlan shrugged. “King brought a healer, said he’d seen a change in Adam, thought the curse was weakening.”

          “But he’s not sick!”

          “I know that,” Harlan held a hand up, stopping Nigel in his tracks. “But if you go in there all worked up, Adam’ll only get more upset.”

          Nigel’s lip curled. He hated it when Harlan was right. He slumped against the wall, next to Harlan. “What if it’s another bloodletting ceremony? He still has nightmares about that.”

          Harlan cocked his head, a small smile playing at his lips as he watched Nigel. “And how do you know about that boy’s nightmares?”

          Nigel started, his heart hammering in his chest. “He uh, he told me.”

          Harlan’s smile grew, but he said nothing. Nigel wondered if the old knight really slept as soundly as he thought.

          The duo lapsed into silence until the door to the chamber opened, prompting both knights to stand at attention.

          The king and the healer left the room alone, and Nigel’s chest clenched in panic when the prince was not in sight. He strained to hear if Adam was whimpering and hyperventilating. 

          King Raki nodded to the men before turning to the healer. “I’ll make the arrangements immediately.”

          The healer nodded before taking his leave.

          The king took a step forward, his hand landing heavily on Harlan’s shoulder. “There may be hope for the kingdom yet.”

          Harlan nodded, bowing his head as the king took his leave.

          The second the man was out of sight, Nigel ran for the chamber, skidding to a stop when he saw Adam smiling brightly.

          “There’s a cure.” Adam grinned.

          “What?”

          “My father said that he’s been watching me, at the courtyard, and the tournament, and when I knighted you.” Adam was bouncing, brimming with excitement. “He said I was less embarrassing than I’ve ever been.”

          Nigel snarled, but Adam didn’t seem to notice.

          “He brought the healer to me and they think the curse has weakened.” Adam looked at Harlan. “He said that true love’s kiss should be all I need.”

          “A kiss?” Harlan made a face. Nigel wanted to hit something.

          “Y-yes.” Adam started fiddling with his sleeves. “He’s going to start looking for my true love. H-he said I could sup with him once a week when the candidates come to dinner.”

          Nigel’s jaw clenched again. He gripped the hilt of his sword, letting the wolf bite into his hand. When he looked at Adam, the hope in his eyes made Nigel’s stomach sour.

          “H-he said I could be a real son to him. T-the heir he needs.” Adam’s smile was so bright, so goddamn horribly bright. “H-he might forgive me.”

          “That’s good, son,” Harlan says gently, patting the prince’s shoulder.

          “I-it is, I think.” Adam nodded.

          Nigel picked at his dinner, listening to Adam prattle on about courting women and finally becoming normal. The roast chicken tasted like ash in his mouth.

          As the knights took their leave, Adam caught Nigel’s arm. “Will you come at the normal time tonight? I have a new book.”

          Nigel shook his head. “Can’t come tonight.”

          “Why?”

          “I can’t spend every night taking notes for you, Sire. Gotta sleep sometime.” Nigel pulled away, slipping out the door.

          “O-oh. I-I didn’t realize.” Adam was staring at his shoes. “I-I’m sorry.”

          Nigel nodded, turning on his heel and fleeing after Harlan. He stayed awake until the dawn, listening to Harlan snore as he glared at the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: A kiss, a misunderstanding, and a plan to "cure" Adam.


	4. True Love’s Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Kiss  
> A Misunderstanding  
> A Mess...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I need to thank the astounding Gwilbers for all the beta work done on this nonsense.   
> Also, I'm throwing this in the Hannibal tag because technically, there are now three Hannibal characters running around the castle. So there!

          “WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT HIM CHICKEN?” King Raki slammed a fist on the great table and Adam flinched. “I said he was to eat stew with everyone else.”

          Gabi curtseyed, keeping her head bent. “Apologies, my lord. I believe that the stew pot was spilled. I hope the prince doesn’t mind.”

          “I-I don’t mind.” Gabi turned to Adam and winked. He frowned at the expression.

          “Very well, serve him.” King Raki waved at her.

          “Nigel said you’d like this better,” Gabi whispered in his ear as she laid the plate before him.

          Adam looked at her in shock before dipping his head with a small smile. Nigel had stopped coming to his room for reading lessons, but it was nice to know his knight still looked out for him, even when his presence was scarce.

          “Thank you.”

          “That girl should be whipped,” said Lady Du Maurier as she laid a hand on Adam’s thigh. “The impertinence of whispering to the crowned prince.”

          Adam flinched.

          He had only met three possible brides, but each dinner was worse than the last. The first woman, Princess Margot had engaged Gabi in conversation when she served them and had wholly ignored Adam. His father had chided him later for not engaging her more, but Adam didn’t want to be rude and interrupt the princess' conversation. The Duchess of Tramell had been better, but she had rolled her eyes at Adam when he started talking about the rotation of the stars. Nervous, he had begun tapping his fingers softly on the table until his father yelled. Then, he’d had to flee to keep from hyperventilating in the royal dining hall. Harlan had followed him, stroking his hair and murmuring to the prince until his breath returned.

          Now, he had to shake off Lady Du Maurier’s hand for a third time. He despised being touched normally, unless it was Harlan’s gruff pats on the shoulder or Nigel’s fingers tugging at his hair. It was too much, and he began to rock in his seat.

          “Adam! I need to see you a moment.”

          Adam’s breath caught, his chest clenching as he moved to follow the king. He tried to make himself move normally, even as his lungs began to burn.

          “What’s wrong now?” Demanded the king, turning to loom over Adam. The prince knew that face, it was the angry expression his father rarely displayed in open court. Adam had seen it his whole life.

          “I-I-”

          “SPIT IT OUT!”

          Adam choked. He closed his eyes. He heard Nigel’s voice softly in the back of his mind. Adam took three breaths and then blurted. “She keeps touching me.”

          The king sneered. “She should suck your royal cock for this opportunity.”

          “I don’t like when-”

          The king grabbed Adam’s shoulders. His grip was too hard and Adam tried to flinch away. “We’re so close, son. You have to try.”

          The king left the anti-chamber, returning to the dinner with a broad smile on his face.

          “I am,” Adam said to the empty room.

* * *

 

          Adam looked over cook’s suggested menu for his birthday feast and frowned. Stewed meats, rich fruit cakes slathered in gloopy sauces, and an assortment of boiled vegetables – he hated it all.

          It was a test from his father, he was sure.

          In the months since they’d begun the search, Adam had managed to frighten off nine princesses, ladies, and even a wealthy merchant’s daughter. Adam tapped his fingers too much. He gagged on the stews his father favored and spent dinners poking at them with a spoon. He got upset when the women touched him, caressed him without warning. When Lady Du Maurier had tried to slip her hand beneath his tunic, Adam had knocked over his chair in his haste to get away. He fled to the anti-chamber when his father had yelled, but Adam couldn’t get his breathing back under control.

          He had known it was Nigel who picked him up by the smell. The scent of stables, sawdust, and leather filtering in with the little air he was allowed. He gripped onto his knight’s shoulders as he choked on nothing, grip tightening when the king stormed in to yell. When it was established that Adam would tear at his hair and scream if Nigel loosened his grip, the king dismissed him from dinner.

          Though it was a night of great embarrassment for the king and the Kingdom of Raki, Adam had at least one fond memory to cling to. That night Nigel laid him in bed, fitting his bulk around Adam and murmuring little nonsense endearments into his hair. Adam drifted off listening to Nigel call him Melydor and wondering what that meant.

          In the morning, he woke up to a cold, empty bed.

          It had been the first time Nigel had entered his bedchamber alone for months. But Adam had a plan for that.

          The knock on his door was loud and Nigel strode in before Adam could tell him to enter.

          “You’re sick?” Nigel’s eyes swept over him. Adam felt his chest go warm. He missed his friend so much it ached, but Nigel had insisted Adam should sleep without him. _I can’t be on one side, your wife on the other, wouldn’t be room, sire,_ Nigel had said gently, squeezing Adam’s tapping fingers.

          “No.”

          “But the healer is here.” Nigel gestured to the spindly man in the doorway.

          “I asked him to come. I need to discuss the curse.”

          Nigel frowned, but moved to let the man in. “You want me to stay?”

          Adam looked into Nigel’s eyes, he hadn’t offered to stay in such a long time. There was something odd about the knight’s expression, but he didn’t know what it was.

          “No thank you, but I will call for you later.”

          With a nod, Nigel exited the chamber.

          “What may I do for you highness?” asked the healer as he inspected Adam’s face with cold fingers. “You look quite drawn, there are dark circles under your eyes.”

          “I no longer sleep well.” The prince flinched from the grip.

          “I shall tell the king, have a new bed brought-”

          “How do you know who’s your true love?”

          “What?”

          “You said the curse could be broken by true love’s kiss.” Adam tapped on a pile of books on his table. “I’ve read these, but the concepts of love are indistinct. I need a scientific way to measure. How do healers determine true love?”

          The healer cocked his head, mouth twisting. “I, don’t know, you – you just fall in love with someone, Sire.”

          Adam frowned, his fingers tapping harder on the books. “That makes no sense. You’re a healer. You have to tell me how to determine it. It can’t be a cure if it has no definition.”

          The healer blinked, eyes on the prince’s tapping hands as he took a step backward. “To determine true love, one must find an equal. A match that will make the kingdom happy as well as themselves. Someone beautiful too, I’m sure. A match is someone who shall be popular with the people as well as the royal family and be able to help you curb your… habits.”

          Adam looked at his feet, considering. There was no denying Nigel was beautiful. His crooked smile made Adam’s heart pound fast, and the way his brown hair shone gold in the sunlight when he took his helmet off was breathtaking. Adam thought of the way the crowds cheered for the Wolf of Raki in the tournaments. Harlan said a few of the stable boys played at being Nigel with their brooms. Adam thought of Nigel’s smile, and how he strove to bring Adam to the courtyard, introduce him to some of the squires and attendants. Adam had been terrified of frightening them at first, but Nigel had helped him feel comfortable.

          It all made sense. He could break the curse before dinner.

* * *

 

          Nigel poked his head around the door. “Highness?”

          Adam moved into view, smiling brightly. He took Nigel’s hand by the wrist and dragged him to the table. A plate of Nigel’s favorite mince pies lay cooling behind the prince.

          Nigel frowned. “What are those doing there? You hate the smell.”

          “I do,” Adam said with a smile. “But that should change.”

          Nigel’s lip curled into a half smile. “I’m not sure I’m following you, Adam.”

          Adam paused. He thought about Harlan. When he was little and felt something, he assumed others felt it too. It was one of the worst parts of the curse. Harlan had told him he should ask before acting.

          “H-have you ever kissed anyone, Nigel?”

          Nigel’s smile fell, his fingers flexed a few times. “What?”

          “Have you ever kissed anyone?” Adam shook his head, then. Best to be specific. “Romantically, I mean.”

          “Y-yes,” Nigel rubbed the back of his neck, he wouldn’t meet Adam’s eyes.

          A jolt of something sharp passed through Adam. He thought of Gabi. “Would, uh… would you show me how?”

          Nigel took a step forward then paused, flopping into a chair instead. He looked up, eyes wide and mouth slack. “What?”

          Adam took the seat next to Nigel, scooting close. He looked into Nigel’s eyes for a moment, but didn’t know what the dilated pupils and rapid breathing meant. “Will you kiss me?”

          “Adam,” Nigel’s voice was tight. He closed his eyes and swallowed heavily. Adam reached out to touch Nigel’s scar, making the knight shudder. “You don’t need me to show you. Any of those girls who come to the palace would be happy to-”

          “It should be you,” Adam whispered. “I-I want it to be you.”

          Nigel kept his eyes closed, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. “You’re sure?”

          “Yes.”

          Nigel’s eyes popped open. Adam smiled, then pursed his lips, he’d seen the maids and squires kiss a few times and this had always been the first step. Nigel huffed out a small laugh before leaning forward and pressing his mouth to Adam’s. The weight was pleasant, Adam felt gooseflesh rise on the back of his neck and arms. When Nigel pulled back, Adam chased his mouth.

          The knight smiled, stroking his hand along Adam’s jaw and tracing the prince’s lower lip with a thumb. “Relax your mouth for me, gorgeous.”

          Adam smiled, Nigel’s thumb falling over the flesh of his mouth and touching his teeth. “You think I’m gorgeous.”

          Nigel nodded, still tracing Adam’s lips. Adam was shaking, his body filled with an odd frenetic energy. The sensations were overwhelming, but he didn’t want to pull back, he wanted to dive in. He couldn’t breathe, his heart was rabbiting in his chest, and instead of panic all he felt was elation. His knight thought he was gorgeous, the curse must be broken. He dipped forward, mouth slack as it met Nigel’s.

          When Nigel licked along his lower lip, Adam gasped. Nigel moved then, reflexes fast. His hands latched onto Adam’s waist, yanking the prince into his lap.

          Adam moaned when he was pressed against Nigel. His body felt alight, every pore crackling with need. Nigel slipped his tongue into Adam’s mouth, licking along each surface as he explored. Adam rocked forward, his hands digging frantically into Nigel’s hair, trying to pull him closer. Nigel fisted his hands in the back of Adam’s robes, rolling their hips together.

          Pulling back, Nigel gasped for air. His eyes were nearly black, his mouth slick as he panted and watched Adam. Nigel stroked Adam’s cheek, his fingers trembling slightly as they traced along the prince’s skin.

          Adam brought his hand to Nigel’s neck, stroking the scar softly. “You’re a very good kisser, Nigel.”

          “Adam,” Nigel whispered. He drew the prince back to his chest, frowning when Adam pressed his hands to Nigel’s shoulders to still the motion.

          “Wait. It should be broken.”

          “What?”

          Adam stood, reaching for the mince pies. He plucked one from the pile and took a bite. The cloying taste of boiled meat and gravy coated his tongue, making him gag. He blinked, trying to force himself to chew. He couldn’t make himself swallow. He spat the mouthful into a napkin. It was too much, the textures were still all wrong.  

          The prince’s chest started to tighten, cold panic pricked at the sides of his face.

          It should have worked.

          “I don’t understand.”

          Nigel reached for him, but Adam dodged, his breathing speeding as he fell backwards. He landed awkwardly in the chair next to Nigel, the sharp wooden arm digging into his side. Adam’s eyes were tearing, Nigel a blur as the knight leaned into his space. He knew Nigel was talking, but he only heard the tone, no words.

          It had felt right. Everything about the press of Nigel against him had been right.

          Yet Adam was still cursed.

          The prince wrapped his arms around himself, stroking at his biceps as he rocked. His mind flew in several directions, wondering if they had to say _I love you_ before kissing, if he should perhaps try to kiss him again. He had been so sure.

          Nigel had kissed him. Nigel who was frantically gripping him and trying to soothe him.

          “-three breaths and blurt! Come on, Adam, I need to know what’s wrong.”

          Adam hiccupped air into his lungs three times, his whole body shaking.

          “It didn’t work,” Adam choked. He felt woozy.

          “What didn’t work, darling?”

          Adam’s face burned at the endearment. _Darling_. He wasn’t Nigel’s darling. He wasn’t anything to Nigel, and he was still cursed. How stupid he had been to think he could have this – to think Nigel ate with him, talked with him, and slept in his bed out of anything other than obligation.

          Nigel was talking again, his hands running soothingly against his arms. It made Adam feel better, which instantly made him feel worse – his own body betraying him when he had proof there was nothing here. Raising a hand, Adam struck at his head, trying to give himself something sharp to focus on. “I’m so stupid. Stupid Adam. Stupid, stupid-”

          His hands were caught before he could do much damage to his head. Nigel was leaning in again, his eyes looked teary. “Stop! Adam, darling-”

          “DON’T CALL ME THAT! LIAR!” Adam started to struggle frantically. He had to get away. He couldn’t breathe. His curse was killing him. He couldn’t look into Nigel’s eyes anymore. “LIAR! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!”

          The door burst open and Harlan ran to the boys. “What in the seven hells happened?”

          “I- he- I didn’t mean to scare him!”

          “GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!”

          Harlan was pushing Nigel out of Adam’s field of vision. The older knight turned to Nigel “Do as he says, you’re only gonna make this worse if you stay.”

          “I- Adam, I’m sorr-”

          Adam flailed, catching Harlan in the face, the older man rocked slightly before firmly grabbing Adam and pulling him into a tight hug. “Go, Nigel.”

          Nigel fled, running from the room like he was being chased. Harlan had Adam in a comforting grip now, the pressure helping to settle him a bit. As air returned to his lungs, Adam started to weep.

* * *

 

           Three days later, Nigel was dragged by the scruff of his neck into Adam’s chamber. Harlan deposited the knight in front of Adam. The prince hadn’t seen Nigel at all since the failed kiss, the knight hiding in his quarters and only guarding the hallway to Adam’s chamber.  

          When Harlan hauled Nigel into the room, he dropped him unceremoniously into a chair. Then, he pointed at Adam, “You, talk.”

           Harlan’s finger swung around to bump Nigel’s nose. “You, listen.”  

          The older knight turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. Adam had asked after Nigel several times. He’d even told Harlan to tell Nigel it was OK to eat with them. But still, Nigel remained just around the corner whenever Adam looked for him.

          Now, faced with the man himself, Adam found he couldn’t think of the little speech he prepared. He’d worked on it for hours at night, he had time since his sleep had gotten fitful. It was an apology for assuming Nigel felt about him the way he felt about Nigel. It would acknowledge that Nigel was a paid servant, and Adam should have never put him in that position. He would also assure Nigel that though he remained attracted to him, he would never attempt to kiss or touch Nigel again.

          Adam opened his mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance.

          “Adam, please forgive me.” Nigel was staring at his hands, wringing them in his lap as he spoke. “I should have never – when you asked I was just so – I didn’t mean to-”

          Nigel ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. Adam sunk into a chair, feeling his chest clench painfully.

          There it was. Nigel should have never kissed him. When Adam asked he was just so afraid to say _no_ , he had kissed him anyway. He didn’t mean any of it.

          Adam nodded. He felt sick. His fingers started tapping softly on his thighs. “I-I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

          Nigel looked up at that, his face contorted oddly. “For what, dar- uh, Sire?”

          “I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was wrong.”

          Nigel flinched at that and Adam had all the confirmation he needed.

          “W-will you still be my knight?” Adam fidgeted, his fingers flexing as he tried not to tap. He so wanted to be normal, to have Nigel return to him. “Y-you don’t have to. I can talk to father, he’ll gladly take you I think.”

          Nigel frowned, his eyes looked strange, almost wet. Something flickered behind the amber lenses that Adam couldn’t identify. “I don’t… Adam, please. I’ll always serve you, highness. If you’ll allow it.”

          Adam nodded. Both prince and knight smiled at each other, the expression never reaching their eyes.

* * *

 

“I had a feeling you’d be up here,” Harlan laid a soft hand on Adam’s back, patting him affectionately. The prince had climbed the parapet on the east side of the castle, that overlooked the field outside the livery. Adam hummed an acknowledgement, never taking his eyes off the field below.

          Nigel ran through the field shouting and waving an apple, Darko trotting behind him, nipping at his heels. Whenever the horse got close to its prize, Nigel threw the apple in the air, laughing wildly as the horse tried to chomp into it mid-flight. The chase continued for several minutes until Nigel stopped, throwing his arm around the horse's neck and offering Darko his prize.

          “He only laughs when he plays with Darko, now,” Adam said, hands rubbing at his arms.

          “Give it some time, Adam.” Harlan rubbed a small circle into Adam’s shoulder. The pressure felt good, the prince leaned into it. “He told me the other day he doesn’t know why you forgave him.”

          Adam frowned. Harlan must have been confused. “He forgave me.”

          Harlan raised an eyebrow. “Well then, you’re both forgiven. You can start from there.”

          Adam nodded. He had his doubts. In the past week he’d felt incredibly anxious. Tension seeped into him at every turn. Dinners with his father were horrid. Getting poked by the healer made him flinch. And now, there was no promise of a low voice murmuring soft words to Adam as he drifted to sleep, nor any chance of a grinning knight tugging on his curls as they charted the stars.

          The curse seemed worse than ever.

          “Do you think true love’s kiss will break my curse?”

          Harlan moved to settle beside Adam, leaning heavily against the stone wall. “I think love is always a good thing, curse or no.”

          In the distance, Darko neighed, galloping around Nigel in a circle as the knight laughed.

          “What if the healer is wrong?” Adam fiddled with his sleeves. “I’m not sure kissing someone you love will break the curse.”

          Harlan stilled, a frown settling into his features. “Why’s that?”

          “I did.” Adam couldn’t control the panicked hitch in his breath. “And nothing has changed.”

          Harlan turned, raising a hand to Adam’s face. “Maybe there’s nothing to change, Adam.”

          Adam shook his head. “There’s so much that needs to change, Father – he needs a real heir… Perhaps, perhaps it wasn’t broken because they didn’t love me back?”

          “Adam-” Harlan reached out again, but the prince brushed him away.

          “It’s, OK, Harlan, that must be the reason.” Adam wrapped his arms tightly around himself, casting one last glance at Nigel before he retreated to his chamber.

* * *

 

          In the two months that followed, Adam had hoped that he and Nigel would find their way back to friendship. His knight still refused to touch him, but the impulse was there. Adam noted that Nigel would still raise his hand occasionally to tug on Adam’s curls, only to flex his fingers and drop his hand before making contact. The tease of the motion was nearly unbearable to Adam, who had grown so fond of the sensation of rough fingers running through his hair.

          Adam made another note in his star chart. He had started a new volume months ago, but hadn’t made much progress in it. The view from his balcony was limited and he had somewhat lost the urge to look to the skies, now that he had no one to look with.

          “Sire?”

          Adam jumped, Nigel had moved closer, an odd expression on his face. He wouldn’t meet Adam’s eyes.

          “Yes?”

          “I uh, I know I missed your birthday by a few weeks…” Nigel’s frown deepened, he looked upset.

          “You’re not required to give me anything.” Adam tilted his head. “No one is required to, I think.”

          Nigel laughed lightly, but kept his eyes on his feet. “Yeah, I know, but uh… I thought maybe you’d like something?”

          “What?”

          “You want to go out tonight, Adam?” Nigel’s eyes flicked up. The moment they connected with Adam’s, the prince felt his whole body flush warm. “Stargaze in the old spot?”

          Adam beamed. “Yes.”

          He reached for Nigel, threading their hands together. He marveled at the knight’s warmth, at the way the rough pads of his fingers made Adam’s skin tingle when they rubbed against it. Adam opened his mouth to thank Nigel, to tell him how he’d missed him.

          “ADAM!” The door to the little chamber was thrown open, Sir Charles held open the door for King Raki, who stomped into the room. Nigel dropped Adam’s hand and bowed. Adam stared at his empty fingers, clutching air when they had once held so much more.

          “Adam I have news!” King Raki clapped his hands. Adam flinched at the loud noise. “Your true love has been found.”

          Adam frowned. “How?”

          “The kingdom of Buchwald has a daughter, one of great beauty, I hear.” The king leaned against the table, pausing to look expectantly at Adam. The prince knew his father was waiting for a reaction, but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. With an exasperated sigh, King Raki waved his hands at Adam and continued. “Joining the two kingdoms will give the Buchwalds access to the sea and us access to their mines in the south.”

          This time the king patted his knees and stood, moving to leave. Adam called out. “How do you know she’s my true love?”

          “Because Princess Beth is good for the kingdom.” King Raki sighed. “What’s good for the kingdom is good for the monarchs, remember Adam?”

          “Y-yes,” Adam tapped his fingers on his thighs twice before freezing them under the King’s hard glare.

          “Don’t you want to be rid of this?”

          “Y-yes, of c-course.” Adam’s fingers fidgeted, not knowing how to find a soothing rhythm when they were forced to be still.

          “Then marry this girl and let us all forget this nightmare.”

          Adam paused. He didn’t love the princess of Buchwald. He’d never seen her. None of this made any sense. But his father was smiling at him encouragingly, and that was a rare thing. So Adam nodded, hoping to earn a genuine smile from his father.

          It worked. The king’s smile grew, reaching his eyes. He walked to Adam and clapped one hand on the prince’s shoulder. It was too hard, the grip too tight, but Adam did his best not to flinch under the weight of his father’s approval. “That’s a good boy, Adam. Soon we’ll be rid of this nonsense.”

          Adam smiled, a tremulous thing, but the king merely nodded before leaving his chamber.

          When the door closed, Adam turned to Nigel. “I may be rid of the curse soon! Did you see how happy father was? I’ll be married and normal and you won’t have to worry about packing special food anymore when we go stargazing. You’ll be able to pack your pies. We can share one. I’ll make normal heirs to the throne, and you can show them how to hold a sword and we can take them to the fields and show them our stars!”

          Nigel looked up, his eyes hard and his lip curling. “Sounds like a dream, highness.”  

          “Princess Beth,” Adam mused. “She’s beautiful, apparently. I wonder if she’ll like stars.”

          “If you’ll excuse me, sire, I believe I have to see to something.” Nigel walked by Adam, who caught the knight with a light touch to his bicep.

          “What of our trip tonight?”

          Nigel’s jaw tightened. “I’ll take you and your princess out to the fields when she gets here. You’ll much prefer her pampered royal ass.”

          Something was wrong. Nigel only spoke in that tone to Sir Charles, or occasionally Darko when the horse threw him. Adam gripped tighter onto Nigel’s arm, studying his face. “Yes, I think you’re right, it would be good to take my intended to the fields. She’ll love what I love after all.”

          Nigel tried to free his arm, but Adam wouldn’t release him. “Nigel?”

          “Please, I must-”

          “I- I can see you’re upset, I just don’t know why,” Adam let his fingers loosen, Nigel stepped from him immediately. The prince’s heart throbbed in his chest, Nigel was still so uncomfortable around him. All because he’d misinterpreted Nigel’s kindness for love. He hated the curse. Hated that it had hurt Nigel and driven him away. Adam looked up, rocking slightly as he studied a patch of wall just over Nigel’s right ear. “B-but whatever it is, it’ll be fixed soon. You won’t have to worry, Nigel. Y-you’ll like me much better when I’m married.”

          Nigel blinked. It looked like his eyes had grown watery, but when Adam leaned closer, the knight turned, rushing to the door. “I’ll send Harlan in so you’re not alone tonight. Maybe he’ll take you to the fields, yeah?”

          Nigel was gone before Adam could respond. He stared at the door, trying to take calm deep breaths. He would be better soon. And when he was well, he could think of a way to win back Nigel's friendship.

          In the distance, Adam heard Darko neigh as he was ridden hard out of the palace gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Harlan is sick of this shit. He'll fix it his damn self!


	5. A Royal Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harlan's got a lot of work ahead of him.

          Harlan cursed his knee as he hobbled to a chair. The damn thing always got worse when the summer rains hit. He rubbed at the joint, willing the throbbing to stop so he could make it the rest of the way to the scullery.

          He stretched his leg out, feeling the knee pop in protest. He was falling apart – and so were his boys.

          Princess Beth of Buchwald had been at the palace a fortnight and already Harlan was worried that Adam wouldn’t survive another fourteen days of her particular brand of wooing. She shushed him. She spoke over him. She carried on long conversations with the king while Adam fidgeted in the corner.

          Adam had been doing his best, but the courtship was wearing on him. He talked incessantly to Harlan about making the king proud and how he would soon be fixed. All he had to do was convince Beth to marry him, and all would be well. Harlan wasn’t sure how much longer Adam could endure those beliefs. He tapped his fingers only for the king and princess to admonish him in one voice. He tried to talk to Princess Beth about the night sky, only to have her laugh lightly and tell him _not to worry about his queerness, as it would go away once they were wed._ Adam would nod and go back to being ignored. The prince rocked in his seat, listening to the loud chatter of the court and inhaling the smells of food he didn’t like until he could bear it no more.

          Adam would flee to the anti-chamber, gasping for air and rocking as soon as the door closed. Harlan and Nigel would hold his fists as the prince tried to tear at his hair, promising him he only had to last a little longer through the meal before he would be allowed to go.

          Over the last week, Harlan began to wonder if Prince Adam of Raki truly was cursed for the first time. The boy had lost his spark, dark circles forming under his eyes and his already pale brow overcome with a sickly pallor. He was quiet now, even when alone in his chambers with Harlan. Stars weren’t mentioned, neither were books. The prince would mumble about duty and curses, a mantra repeated so often Harlan could hear it in his sleep.

_Just a bit longer, and it will be well. Just a bit longer and it will break._

          Harlan no longer knew if Adam was referring to the curse or himself.

          The older knight had his own ideas of what Adam truly needed, but those plans seemed to be falling into tatters around him. Whatever had happened between his boys, neither wanted to speak of. Adam would only say he hoped to earn back Nigel’s friendship, while Nigel would grow sullen and lock his jaw.

          He blamed himself for pushing them to be alone. He had always hoped the boys would come together of their own accord, but clearly without his supervision they’d managed to bungle the simplest task given to any man.

          Now, Adam was withering away before his eyes and Nigel, well Nigel spent his free time terrorizing anyone stupid enough to fall in his path.

          The Wolf of Raki was gathering quite a reputation in town. Tales of drunken brawls and orgies with whores were whispered behind Harlan’s back by maids and valets. Nigel rarely slept in their shared chambers any more, showing up to guard Adam with bruises on his jaw, stinking of women and wine. Harlan had cuffed him a few times, but Nigel’s thick skull never seemed to mind.

          The best punishment was always Adam.

          The blue-eyed prince would run to Nigel, softly cupping his jaw and stroking fingers over his bruises. He’d demand a healer and fret over his knight until Nigel was bandaged and given something to ease his pain. Only after the healer had assured the young prince that he’d done all in his power would Adam dismiss him. He’d sit next to Nigel, fingers tapping frantically as he asked what had happened.

          Nigel would mumble the truth, casting half glances at Harlan as his face flushed. There’d been a woman at the tavern, and then an angry husband, and then a fight. Adam never said anything, only nodding sadly as he let his fingers trace over bandaged cuts and bruises. Nigel would keep his eyes down, but Harlan could see plain as day Adam’s implicit forgiveness was worse than any chastisement Harlan could come up with.

          And now, even though his knees were rickety and the stairs still steep, Harlan had to chase after Nigel yet again. To get his wild boy to do his duty, even if his heart was breaking.

          With a sigh, Harlan stood and eased his way down the stairs.

* * *

 

The kitchen girls all slept in the same corner by the large oven and fires. They would lay their mats of straw and reeds as close to the flames as they dared, anything to keep warm when the cold stone of the palace floor seeped through their bedding.

          Harlan could see the cluster of bodies by the fire, but one mat was far from the crowd. With a sigh, Harlan trudged to the far end of the kitchen, only to be greeted with Nigel’s bare ass. His limbs were thankfully draped over Gabi just enough to preserve the girl’s modesty, but the sight of them burned deep in Harlan’s chest.

          It was wrong. He knew it. Nigel damn well knew it. And somewhere under all the fear King Raki had instilled in his only heir, Adam knew it too.

          Harlan knew he couldn’t blame his boy for acting out, but it seemed to bring him no pleasure. Nigel would just mope outside Adam’s doors, staring mournfully at the wooden barrier and refusing to go in unless expressly summoned by the equally mournful prince.

          A goddamn mess was what it all was.

          Harlan looked around and found a bucket with cold mopping water. It would do.

          Nigel woke with a snarl, sputtering water and swinging out at whatever attacked him. Gabi shrieked. Harlan was quick to turn, once Nigel’s limbs left Gabi’s body.

          “WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING OLD MAN?”

          Harlan rolled his eyes. “Miss Gabi, did you find your blanket?”

          “Y-yes, Sir Harlan.”

          “Good.” Harlan whirled to face Nigel, grabbing at the younger knight’s hair and dragging him out of the kitchen. The boy had quick enough reflexes to grab at his breeches, but not to put them on.

          “Stop! HARLAN!” Nigel struggled out of his grip and Harlan cursed his gnarled fingers for weakening with age. “Were you going to drag me naked through the fucking halls?”

          “I was going to drag you to your post, which you are goddamn late for – AGAIN!”

          Nigel’s eyes widened, something like fear flickered through the guilt on his face. “Who’s with Adam?”

          “Gunther.”

          Nigel shook his head. “But Adam doesn’t like him, he’s too loud. He stares at him and that makes him nervous.”

          “Well it was either Gunther, or the worthless bastard that didn’t show up.”

          Nigel flinched at that, hopping into his breeches and lacing them hastily. “I didn’t mean-”

          “YOU NEVER FUCKING MEAN IT, DO YOU NIGEL?” Harlan stomped up the stairs, confident the knight would follow.

          “I just-”

          Harlan stopped them mid-step, his knees could use a rest anyway. “Who do you serve?”

          “What?”

          “Who is your master?”

          Nigel dropped his head, sighing. “Adam.”

          “Do you want him hurt?”

          “No.”

          “Do you want him unguarded?”

          “Harlan-”

          “Do you want Gunther to go back to the others with tales of how strange he is?”

          “I’m sorry!”

          “I don’t want your sorrow, boy. I want you to run your narrow ass up those stairs, get in a clean tunic, and relieve Gunther before Adam has to face the Princess.”

          Nigel’s jaw set. “He doesn’t need me around when he’s with her.”

          Harlan stabbed his finger into Nigel’s chest. “Your duty is to the crowned prince of Raki. And you will serve him to the best of your abilities or not at all. Is your loyalty gone? If you can’t give him your fealty or your-”

          “I’d fucking die for him,” Nigel snarled, color rising high on his cheeks.

          “Then get your ass moving.”

          Nigel’s mouth tightened into a thin line. He nodded once and ran up the stairs.

           Harlan watched his wild boy run with a grimace. He may not envy the kid’s heartbreak, but he sure did envy his knees.

* * *

 

          The climb to the high wall overlooking the courtyard was taxing, but Harlan forced his old bones up the steps. He should have been resting, getting a nap in before dinner. Lord knows Adam hadn’t made it through a full meal at court in days and he’d need to be there to see the boy didn’t harm himself. But before he rested, he had to make sure.

          It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Nigel, it was just…well, Nigel wasn’t the best decision maker Harlan had ever encountered. Harlan had figured that out when the boy used his face to stop a blow because he figured Charles couldn’t hit too hard and it would leave the other boy open to a takedown.

          So now he stood in the shadows, joints locking up as he tried to keep out of sight when Adam and Princess Beth entered the courtyard for their afternoon stroll, accompanied by Adam’s loyal guard.

          Adam looked happier than Harlan has seen him in quite some time. His shoulders dropped from his ears, his smile bright, and his chatter near constant. The reason was apparent to Harlan, even from his vantage point: Adam was pointed directly at Nigel.

          The prince was explaining something with a big hand gesture, Nigel smiling wide as he listened. Princess Beth had gotten several paces away from the men and turned to scowl when she realized she was alone. Adam didn’t notice, but Nigel caught the princess’s eye. With a twist of his mouth, Nigel gently laid a hand on Adam’s back, turning him to move toward Beth.

          The closer the prince got to his intended, the higher his shoulders rose. Adam began tapping his fingers nervously only for the princess to snap something in a sharp tone at him. Adam fisted his hands to keep them still. Harlan felt his heart break as he saw the tension seep into Adam, who grew quiet and still as he followed Beth on their turn around the courtyard.

          The boy’s posture softened slightly when Nigel’s big hand landed on the back of his neck. Harlan squinted at the touch. Nigel had placed his hand between Adam’s shoulder blades, his thumb stroking at the corded muscles around the prince’s neck. From Beth’s vantage point, just a step or two ahead, the touch would be invisible, but it was enough to keep Adam from spiraling into a fit.

          Harlan watched Nigel, mouth set in a grim line as he performed his duty. Harlan knew that face, and the agony behind it. He thought of a pair of luminous blue eyes - shifting in hue like the sea, but wide and sweet whenever they gazed upon him. He was meant to guard the king, spending nights outside his chamber, but more often than not, Harlan would find himself sitting in the Great Hall with Queen Mathilde, talking softly by the fire when the king was in his cups.

          She had a beautiful smile that she practiced carefully for the people of Raki. Demure and sweet, just a curl of her lips. But late at night, when the king was passed out, flagon of ale spilling from his hand and no servant brave enough to stir him, Harlan would see her real smile. It was wide and crooked, revealing a slight snaggle tooth, and usually following her laugh. Harlan had spent many nights trying to think up new ways to see that smile as they whiled away the hours before the king would declare himself ready to bed.

          It had been torture to see her every day, but also the best part of his evenings. He feared himself lost the night the midwife came to inform King Raki of Mathilde’s death, but he had found a new purpose when the king had cast him off to look after the cursed prince. The prince with eyes that shifted hue like the sea.

          Harlan blinked back the prickling in his eyes and cleared his throat, raising a hand when the soft noise drew Nigel’s attention. Nigel merely nodded but didn’t drop his hand from Adam’s back.

          The older knight smiled sadly, turning to seek out his bed.

* * *

 

Nigel tromped into the chamber with all the grace of a bull, as was his custom. Harlan had been waiting for him to return for hours. Nigel hadn’t returned to fetch him for dinner.

          “It’s done.” Nigel pulled at his tunic, eyes hard.

          “What?”

          “They’re engaged.”

          “Oh.” Harlan watched as Nigel tore at the rest of his clothes, something close to rage boiling at the surface.

          “Her majesty told him to propose and when he went to do it, she corrected him,” Nigel muttered, yanking at a boot. “Fucking corrected him like a dog.”

          Harlan saw Nigel’s future then, the same one he’d given to himself, and he wondered if it would have been kinder to leave the dirty-faced urchin he found all those years ago in the alleyway to fend for himself. It was too late, however, and the knowledge of that stung Harlan worse than his knees ever would.

          The older knight stood and walked to Nigel, who was still cursing every item of clothing he had as he removed it. When Nigel stood, bare-chested and sneering, Harlan grabbed him into a hug.

          “I’d trust no one else with him,” he whispered fiercely into Nigel’s ear. The younger knight froze, mouth hanging open. “I want you to know that.”

          He released Nigel with a slight huff, embarrassed that he’d done something so foolish, especially when the boy was half-dressed. Nigel, for his part, blinked a few times, seemingly unsure of what in the seven hells had just happened.

          “What are you on about, old man?” Nigel asked when he found his voice.

          “Nothing.” Harlan felt his face heat, but waved a dismissive hand at Nigel. “Just getting silly in my old age.”

          Harlan turned to get into his bed and hopefully sleep off the whole embarrassing incident. He’d made it two steps when strong arms wrapped around him from behind, squeezing him tight. Harlan let his eyes fall closed, patting his boy’s hands where they locked around his chest.

          With a cough, Nigel released him. “I’ll deny I did that ‘til the day I die.”

          Harlan laughed. “You think I want anyone knowing you got your fleas on me?”

          Both men grinned before dissolving into laughs. Nigel fell backwards on the bed, breeches half undone, gripping his belly as he cackled. Harlan had to brace himself on a desk. He was laughing so loud he almost missed the light knock on the chamber door.

          Harlan threw Nigel’s tunic at him before walking to the door. He started when he saw Adam’s face filling the opening. He was in his dressing gown, hands frantically tugging at his sleeves.

          “Adam?” Harlan stared at the prince. He didn’t even think the boy knew where they slept. But he’d gotten past the night guard and found them somehow.

          Harlan cocked his head and heard nothing. If all hell wasn’t breaking loose, the boy hadn’t been discovered on his journey.

          “I- _uh_ I,” Adam looked lost, his eyes panicked. It made Harlan’s gut ache. Before he could say anything, Adam took three deep breaths, then said. “Is Nigel here? Or did he go to the village again?”

          The door was pulled from Harlan’s hands, Nigel moving into the frame with his brows knitted. The younger knight still held his tunic balled up in his fist, his undone breeches low on his hips. “What’s wrong, Adam?”

          Adam rocked a little, glancing at Harlan. The knight sighed, he could take a hint.

          “Guess I’ll just see if the cook left any of those poppy cakes out,” Harlan grumbled, ushering Adam into his chamber with Nigel before grabbing the door and closing it – almost.

          Harlan plastered himself to the wall, ear next to the crack he left in the door. He wanted to inch the wood open further, but dared not lest Nigel hear a creak and know he hadn’t left.

          “What is it, sire?”

          “I-I don’t think I love her.”

          A snort. Then, “I don’t love her either, Adam.”

          “B-but it might be worth it if I break the curse.” There was a pause, some shuffling. Harlan could hear a rhythmic tapping and knew Adam’s fingers were moving frantically along his thighs. “What do you think, Nigel?”

          “I’m not supposed to think, I’m supposed to defend.” Nigel’s voice was low. The tapping sound slowed. “It’s my job to be by your side and do what you say, sire.”

          “But you’ve b-been gone so much recently.” The tapping was back in full force. “I-I don’t want you to go. I w-want you with me.”

          “I’ll never leave you, Adam.” Harlan’s breath caught in his throat, he’d never heard Nigel’s voice so soft. “All I want is to be by your side.”

          “O-oh…OK. So you’ll stand with me at the wedding?”

          “I’ll stand with you always.”

          “Good, it’ll be easier to break the curse if you’re with me, I think.”

          Harlan stood, wincing at the aches in his bones. He was a foolish old man and he had no right to listen at the door like a palace gossip. He limped toward the kitchen, determined to find something to eat, even though his stomach felt sour.

          He’d give them time. It was the only thing he could give them until he sorted this mess out.  

          When he returned to his chamber an hour later, Harlan wasn’t surprised to find Adam curled in Nigel’s meager bed. The boy was fast asleep, tucked beneath his knight’s big arm, head notched beneath Nigel’s chin, and fingers stroking along the gnarled scar at Nigel’s throat.

          Something at the corners of Nigel’s eyes caught the candlelight. Harlan leaned close, his heart clenching when he recognized it: Salt from a stream of tears Nigel had fallen asleep shedding.

* * *

 

          Apparently, it took a minimum of six weeks to organize a proper royal wedding. Harlan was glad for the time. During their engagement, Princess Beth and Prince Adam were to formally avoid each other’s company, to ensure all proprieties were kept between the engaged couple.

          It was like a weight had been lifted from both his boys. They smiled at each other. They spoke in hushed tones about stars and stories of great knights. Nigel was halfway through reading _Sir Degrevant_ aloud to Adam and Harlan, insisting upon it when Harlan admitted he’d never read the tale. It was as if Princess Beth was gone, and with her absence, Harlan’s boys were happy again.

          Nigel no longer avoided taking extra shifts with Adam, freeing up Harlan to go to town. After a long day of arranging for supplies and making plans, Harlan could come home to a plain dinner of roasted chicken in Adam’s chamber. The sounds of his boys laughing and talking was more beautiful than any music he could fathom.

          But like all reprieves, Harlan felt it too brief. When the royal tailor came into Adam’s chambers for a fitting, Nigel turned sullen. Dinners became quiet again and both boys held themselves stiffly as tension suffused their bodies.

          The night before the wedding, Adam stopped them both before they left him, offering rare hugs to each of his knights.

          “It’ll all be over tomorrow,” Adam said with a bright smile.

          “Yeah, it will.”

          Harlan could hear the misery in Nigel’s voice, though he knew Adam would never recognize it.

* * *

 

          Harlan had a bit of a spring in his step as he walked to his chambers. He had much to tell Nigel and only a little time to do it.

          “Nigel! I-”

          Harlan stopped short. Nigel was shoving things into a pack, his cloak already around his shoulders.

          “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” He grabbed for his boy, who snarled like a wounded creature.

          “What do you think?”

          Harlan’s heart sank. Maybe his wild boy wasn’t the knight Adam needed after all. Harlan laid a hand on Nigel’s shoulder. “You swore you’d be there for Adam. You said you’d stand with him.”

          “I’ll come back in a day, when it’s done.” Nigel shrugged away Harlan’s touch, not meeting the older knight’s eyes. “You can’t ask me to watch this. You can’t ask me to-”

          “I’m not asking you to watch it, you damn fool,” Harlan shook Nigel, forcing the man to meet his eyes. “I’m asking you to stop it!”

          “What?” Nigel’s mouth was slack, Harlan could feel the knight’s heartbeat rabbiting beneath his fingers.

          “Why do you think you’re here Nigel? Do you think I couldn’t find a squire in the courts?” Harlan released the younger man, sitting on his bed. It was exhausting looking after his boys. “You think I wanted to listen to your lip and snores all these years?”

          “Then why?” Nigel sat heavily on his own bed, face contorted in confusion.

          “Because you see him. You’re the only other person I’ve met that knows there’s nothing wrong with that boy.”

          “But the curse-”

          “Is a load of horse shit.” Harlan looked up, meeting Nigel’s eyes. “You know that. You think kissing that little girl is going to change him?”

          “He wants it to.” Nigel ran his hands through his hair. “He wants to marry her and change. He wants to make his father proud.”

          Harlan leaned forward, resting a battle-weary hand on Nigel’s knee. “He wants someone to love him, and we both know he already has that, don’t we, boy?”

          Nigel’s eyes watered. “He doesn’t want m-”

          “He’s not going to change, Nigel. He can kiss her all he wants. He can make a dozen heirs to the throne. But he’ll always be Adam.” Harlan squeezed Nigel’s knee. “And deep down, you’re happy to hear that, aren’t you?”

          Nigel nodded, his breath ragged.

          “You swore to keep him safe and to keep him happy.” Harlan stood, feeling his back crack and his hip creak for his trouble. “All I’m asking is you keep that vow, Nigel.”

          Harlan left Nigel to stare silently at his hands. He had one more person to see before he could sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next up:**  
>  A wedding, a confession, and a kiss...


	6. A Curse Unbroken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Wedding, A Kiss, And A Curse Redefined...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is late and I've responded to no comments this week and for that I am SO VERY SORRY. I'm traveling and have been on the road for roughly 900 hours. I'm posting this on my teeny geriatric laptop, so forgive me if it's wonky looking. I promise I'll respond to everyone when I get back! I love you all for being so kind to this story.
> 
> For now, you know I want to thank my darling Gwilbers for patiently reading this.

          Nigel had never seen so many flowers in his life. Apothecary roses laid in voluminous clusters along the aisle of the castle’s chapel. They looked like blood splattering against the marble arches and vestibules. Grand garlands of rosemary, foxglove, and St. John's Wort, speckled with white peonies, were strung from the pews, leading to the altar.

          Nigel’s nose twitched at the spectacle.

          He looked up to see birch and holly branches woven through the grand chandeliers that ran along the aisle. He wondered which poor bastard had wiggled up a ladder, only to cut his hands twisting the prickling branches around the large metal stands. He hoped the whole thing caught when they tried to light the candles.

          In the past week, it seemed as if Buchwald had invaded the kingdom of Raki. Servants in their crimson tunics would scuttle about the halls bowing and generally being under foot. The lords and ladies of the kingdom had arrived with their overfed horses and overfine silks, jockeying to stay at the castle and be presented with the best spots for the chapel ceremony. Even some bishop with a funny hat had arrived, just to make sure no one forgot that god himself blessed this terrible fucking day. Nigel sneered at all of them.

          Fucking ridiculous was what it was. All this fuss for some stuck up foreign bitch who called him _Sir Neil_ when she remembered he was in the room. _Sir Neil, could you see to the drapes? Sir Neil, I believe we’ll take our turn in the courtyard now._

          Adam had tried to correct her, but the princess had simply rolled her eyes and told him not to worry about his queer attachment to the staff, it would be cured soon.

          It was all Nigel could do to keep from taking her head whenever he was in a room with her. What stopped him wasn’t the thought of execution, or even the torture that would surely precede his beheading, it was Adam. His prince would be horrified at the bloody display, and even worse, he’d blame himself for his father’s anger.

          So Nigel, once the Wolf of Raki and now _Sir Neil_ , stayed his hand and allowed the girl to live. The things he did for his prince.

          “Sir? You’ll have to move, we’re preparing to lay the runner.” Nigel glared at his elbow where an officious little man was pushing at him. A harried looking servant ran up, stilling the little man’s hands.

          “Are you mad? That’s the Wolf of Raki!” The servant hissed, before turning to Nigel. “Sir, I’m sorry, he was brought from Buchwald to help decorate according to the Princess’s specifications, he meant no offense.”

          “Offense or no, I need to lay the runner and press out the silks before the lords and ladies arrive!” Snapped the Buchwald servant.

          “Looks fucking ugly,” Nigel snarled, stomping out of the chapel.

          “He’s a knight?”

          “Be quiet! I heard he bit a man’s hand off once!”

          Nigel scoffed as he walked toward Adam’s quarters, seems the prince wasn’t the only feared creature in the castle.

* * *

 

          “No, I s-stop!”

          “Sire, it must be tied in an appropriate-”

          “N-NO! I- I can’t-”

          Nigel could hear his prince choking and shoved past the Buchwald servants and Raki dressers. Adam was clutching at his throat, gasping and rocking as he tore at a piece of cloth. The servants seemed to be fighting with him, Nigel could hear Adam’s panic rising as he tried to choked out words.

          “OUT!” Nigel bellowed, freezing everyone in the room but the prince.

          “Sir, we must-”

          Nigel unsheathed his blade, holding it aloft as he studied the dresser. “Get out, or you’ll have to find a way to get blood off of this fancy fucking outfit.”

          Nigel waited for the last of the servants to flee and the door to shut before he gathered Adam into his arms. The length of crimson cotton was hanging loosely from Adam’s throat now, the boy rocking as he took in great gluts of air.

          “Three breaths and blurt,” Nigel murmured, rocking with Adam as he petted through the prince’s curls. They swayed a few more moments together as Adam gathered his air.

          “I couldn’t breathe,” Adam relaxed into Nigel’s arms. “I-I don’t like things around my throat. B-but it’s w-what’s in style in Buchwald. Father said-”

          Nigel sighed pulling the prince into a tight hug. He let his lips brush against Adam’s curls, wondering if this was the last time he’d have the chance for such a liberty. “You don’t have to wear this bit of frippery if you don’t-”

          “I don’t want to upset anyone. The ceremony has to be perfect.”

          Adam’s hands wound into Nigel’s tunic, tugging and worrying the fabric as he tensed again. Nigel forced himself to relax, deep breaths that made the prince clinging to his chest rise and fall gently.

          “Alright, Adam. We can do it up ourselves, so it’s not so tight, yeah?”

          Adam smiled, his head nodding against Nigel’s chest. “Do… do you think you can?”

          Nigel huffed a small laugh, “I’ve bitten off an ear, charted the stars, and beaten you once at chess – I can do anything.”

          “Yelling _dragon_ and sweeping the pieces off the board doesn’t count as winning,” Adam murmured into Nigel’s tunic, his hands still pulling at the folds he clutched.

          “Made you laugh though,” Nigel said, his hands stroking over Adam’s back, rubbing small circles into the tense spots he found. It was getting harder and harder to imagine releasing Adam from his grip. Nigel coughed, pushing the prince back by his shoulders and immediately regretting the loss of warmth. “Let’s see to this, then.”

          Nigel grabbed the cloth and studied the gauzy material. His rough hands snagged at the fine weave as he pulled it from around Adam’s shoulders. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Adam.

          “It’s supposed to be wrapped nine times around my neck and then pulled through the center.”

          “But it was too tight?”

          “Yes.”

          Nigel frowned then looped the cloth around Adam’s shoulders. “I guess we’ll just wrap it seven, then.”

          “But that’s not how the Buchwalds wrap their-”

          “It’s how the Rakis wrap themselves.” Nigel raised his hand to Adam’s throat, pausing when he felt the prince gasp beneath his hand. He took a moment, thumb stroking softly over the pulse in Adam’s throat. He didn’t want the prince to be frightened of his hands. “Are you OK?”

          Adam nodded, his eyes looked glassy. Nigel brushed his fingers along Adam’s throat again, soft and steady. “Breathe, Adam. Big deep breaths. I promise I won’t let any harm come to you.”

          Slender fingers wrapped around Nigel’s squeezing hard before releasing him. “I know you wouldn’t.”

          Nigel nodded, chewing on his lip as he set about the task. He draped the cloth around the long column of Adam’s throat, tight enough to cover the unspoiled flesh, but loose enough to breathe. His fingers began to shake as he wove the end through the wrappings, it seemed a sin to cover such beautiful flesh with Buchwald colors.

          When he was done, Nigel couldn’t make himself move his hands. He stood fingers still feeling the faint beat of Adam’s pulse through the layers of material. Adam was staring at Nigel’s neck, his breath shallow but steady.

          “Thank you, Nigel.” The touch, when it came, made Nigel’s heart falter in his chest. Adam’s fingers skimmed over his scar, tracing along the ridges with familiar ease. The prince’s voice shook even as his sure fingers ran along Nigel’s throat. “Don’t wear a wrap around your throat, please. I- I want to be able to look over and see your scar.”

          Nigel caught Adam’s hands, bringing them just short of his lips. He closed his eyes, his heart hammering. He thought of Harlan’s words, of how miserable Adam looked when he was in court. The prince may not want him, but he’d be damned if Adam didn’t know how beloved he was. “Adam, you don’t have to- I, I need you to know that I’ve always- that I WILL always-”

          “ADAM!” The king burst through the door followed by Sir Charles. Nigel nearly fell backwards releasing Adam’s fingers. “What’s this I hear about a fit? You’ll wear the Buchwald wrap and you’ll-”

          The king paused, looking at his son with his neck wrap fastened. He cocked his head.

          “Nigel helped me.” Adam’s voice was thin, but the tremble was gone. The king moved closer, inspecting Adam. The prince shrunk a bit under the king’s glare.

          “Not bad.” The king walked over to Nigel and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you for getting them out when you did. Don’t want another embarrassment this close to the big moment, do we? You go get your cloaks on, Charles and I will make sure he behaves himself with the dressers.”

          Nigel looked at Adam, eyes wide. He’d defy king and court to stay by his side if he was needed. Adam offered Nigel one of his ugly fake smiles, thin lipped and not reaching his eyes. The smiles he usually saved for his father and Beth. The expression wormed into Nigel’s gut and left him cold.

          “Yes, thank you for keeping me from embarrassment, Nigel. P-Please send in the dressers as you leave.”

          Nigel bowed and fled the room, feeling as though he’d been struck.

* * *

 

          Nigel stood at the altar, hand on his sword and glaring at all the lords and ladies filing in to watch the spectacle. Adam would be led in by the king’s guard, and Nigel desperately wanted to see his prince to make sure he was still calm. Instead, he had to stare at the lords and ladies of two kingdoms as they all jockeyed for position in the pews and murmured about the first chance to see Prince Adam of Raki in a formal setting. Nigel could hear whispers of _the curse_ from the finely frocked fucks in the pews and it was making his fingers clench at the steel by his side.

          “You can’t kill ‘em all.” Nigel jumped. He hadn’t noticed Harlan walk up behind him, small smile on his face. Nigel moved his hand from his hilt to his side, the fingers still fisted. “But you can fix your cloak. You get dressed in the dark?”

          “This is worse than armor.” Nigel curled his lip as Harlan fussed with the thick blue cloak that hung from his shoulders. It weighed heavily upon his breastplate, catching on the thick wool of his surcoat when he shifted his shoulders. Adam had seen to the surcoats of each of his knights, insisting that they not be forced to wear the Raki crest tabards the rest of the knights were issued. Harlan was emblazoned with golden keys over fine blue wool. Nigel’s surcoat was made of the same blue wool, bore a silver wolf, howling at a star.

          The knight had spent hours running his fingers over the intricate stitching, wondering that anyone cared for him enough to give him something so beautiful. Still, it was heavy as hell, the surcoat choking him whenever the cloak fell from his shoulders.

          “If you’re interested,” Harlan said, ignoring Nigel’s grumbles as he moved the cloak to sit properly on the younger knight’s shoulders. He pitched his voice low, leaning closer. “I bought a small cabin just outside the kingdom, in the forbidden forest.”  

          Nigel frowned. “What?”

          “Nice little place, about seventeen miles from the tree line, at the foothills of the Great Mountain.” Harlan continued to fuss with Nigel’s cloak. “Nothing grand, mind you. Just a little cabin in a clearing, near a stream. I bet you could see the sky for miles there.”

          Nigel’s chest tightened. “They’d find us.”

          “You think King Raki will send his troops into a forest filled with black magic and bears? After a son he’s never wanted?” Harlan tied and retied the fastening, eyes down. “Easier just to marry the princess himself and try for another heir.”

          “He deserves more than that. He deserves-” The air was suddenly too thick, Nigel couldn’t draw it into his lungs. “I can’t ask this of him.”

          Harlan patted a hand on Nigel’s chest, done with his adjustments. He met Nigel’s eyes and the younger knight saw a challenge in them. “Well, if you find someone who can, you let them know that Darko is hitched to the small cart with a month’s worth of supplies packed up. The key to the cabin is under the fourth stone in the walkway.”

          “Harlan-”

          But the music started playing and the older knight moved to take his place for the ceremony.

* * *

 

          Nigel knew it was wrong, but he had prayed with every fiber of his being that Adam would throw a fit. One of the big, overwhelming ones that left the prince beating at his head and searching for air. One that would have required intervention, would have required Nigel dragging Adam from this horrid chapel that stank of incense and flowers and holding him until he calmed.

          Any excuse for one last chance to hold him, to feel his heart sing as Adam relaxed into his arms.

          But Adam stood at the altar, resolute as he stared at the bishop. Occasionally, he’d turn back to glance at Nigel, who would smile even as his gut churned.

          A hail of trumpets announced the arrival of Princess Beth, the grand doors in the hall opening to reveal her.

          Nigel sneered. She looked like a raspberry under all that red silk.

          Feeling eyes on him, Nigel glanced to Adam. The boy looked pale, mouth drawn tight and eyes worried. Nigel relaxed his lip, forcing himself to smile and wink at his prince. He flushed bright when Adam’s immediate response was a bright smile of his own.

          Adam’s eyes shifted to Beth as she approached and Nigel felt the loss of that smile like a physical blow. Adam offered his hand to the princess as she approached the altar, his free hand tugging nervously on the wrap around his neck. Beth reached up, forgoing his offered hand to snatch at the hand fiddling with the cloth at Adam’s throat.

          With a tight grip, Beth sharply pulled Adam's hand down from his neck and pressed it to his thigh with a raise of her eyebrow. Nigel saw his prince flinch at the movement, the knight’s body running tense as he fought not to intervene. Behind him, Harlan cleared his throat.

          “We gather today for a momentous occasion,” began the bishop. “Today, the kingdoms of Raki and Buchwald shall become one. Today will see the start of a new rule for one kingdom and the end of a dark curse for another.”

          Nigel ground his teeth together, tuning out the bishop’s rambling and trying to ignore another derisive snort from Harlan. Adam wanted this. Adam would be a great king one day and Nigel would be at his side. It was worth it to give Adam what he deserved.

          A voice that sounded suspiciously like an old knight he knew wafted through Nigel’s head. Was a loveless marriage really what he deserved? Adam would be forced into loud ceremonies and parties. Beth scoffing at his little ticks and soothing behaviors. The king, wishing for a different son until his dying day.

          Nigel blinked, shaking his head. He’d be at Adam’s side no matter what. Maybe that would be enough.

          The prince was looking at him again, eyes on Nigel’s ruined neck. He smiled when Nigel caught his eye, taking a deep breath before turning back to the ceremony. Beth made an annoyed noise at the distracted behavior and Nigel bit into his cheek.

          When the bishop asked for rings, Adam began to rock slightly. His fingers flexed a few times, and Nigel knew he was trying his best not to tap them and anger his father. But as the ceremony droned on, the finger flexing became more frequent, and soon, a soft little rhythm was being tapped on Adam’s thigh.

          Though the noise was soft, it drew Princess Beth’s attention. She glared, but that only made Adam tap harder. After a few moments, she reached out and swiftly swatted his hand, hissing “Be still!”

          “STOP!” Nigel blinked, realizing all eyes were on him. His chest clenched but he moved forward, looming over the princess. The king’s guards in the back of the church tensed, the sound of shifting metal filling the chapel, but made no move. Nigel bared his teeth at the princess, who took a step back. “You hit him again, I’ll have your fucking hand.”

          “What’s going on here?” Nigel turned to glare at the king but was stopped by a familiar touch.

          Adam.

          The prince’s hand rested on Nigel’s chest, patting him softly. When Nigel looked at Adam, the boy met his eyes for a heartbeat, trying to smile. “I-it’s OK, Nigel. It’s almost over.”

          “Don’t do this, Adam.” Nigel’s voice sounded strange to his own ears, too high and strained. Adam shook his head, eyes down and determined frown in place.

          “I-I have to! The, the curse-”

          “There is no fucking curse!”

          Adam blinked and began to rock. Nigel could bear it no more. He was already a dead man, he’d at least die knowing Adam had heard the truth. He stepped forward, ignoring the shocked murmurs of the crowd and King Raki’s demands to know what was happening.

          Taking Adam’s face in his hands, Nigel gently tipped the boy’s chin up, thumbs brushing along Adam’s cheeks. He waited until Adam’s eyes landed on his own. “There is nothing wrong with you, my darling. There never has been. You’re not cursed, your father is. He can’t see what a fucking wonder you are.”

          Adam’s brows knit, his hands moving to rest over Nigel’s though he made no move to free himself. “But if someone who loves me kisses me-”

          “I have, gorgeous. And you didn’t change.” Nigel felt his cheeks heat as a shocked rumble went through the crowd.

          “WHAT’S THE MEANING OF THIS? HARLAN! WHAT’S HE TALKING ABOUT?” Nigel ignored the king, watching Adam parse out his confession. The hands around Nigel’s tightened, and the knight steeled himself for Adam’s rejection.

          “You- you love me?” Adam’s eyes were shining when they caught Nigel’s.

          “WHAT’S HE TALKING ABOUT? ADAM! GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

          Nigel ran his thumb along his prince’s cheek again, smiling. “I’m your wolf, aren’t I? Who else could I love?”

          Adam scrunched his brows. “But I love you too…the curse should have broken when we kissed.”

          “ADAM! HOLD YOUR TONGUE!”

          “You didn’t change because there is no fucking curse, darling.” Nigel leaned down, a breath away from Adam’s lips. “You think I want my gorgeous prince to change?”

          Adam’s eyes fell, he took a shuddering breath. “I’ll always be like this.”

          “I fucking hope so.” Nigel pulled his prince to him, gently sealing their lips together. Adam was still in his hands for half a breath before pressing up into Nigel’s touch. The thin fingers that had held his hands moved to wrap around Nigel’s shoulders and draw him closer.

          Adam’s lips parted on a sigh and Nigel couldn’t resist licking into the prince’s mouth. Adam made a small keening noise, sucking at Nigel’s tongue and nearly unmanning the knight in front of the whole court.

          “HOW DARE YOU? ADAM!”

          “GUARDS!” Sir Charles began rallying the men at the end of the aisle.

          “SEIZE THAT MAN!” screamed the King.

          The sound of armored men running up the aisle tore Nigel from Adam’s mouth. “Come with me.”

          “OK.”

          “I can’t promise you a palace or a-”

          Adam grabbed at Nigel’s surcoat and tugged hard. “I said _OK_ , and we should probably leave before the guards reach us.”

          Nigel nodded, leading Adam to the transept. The armor would slow the Buchwald and Raki guards, they had a chance if they could make the small porch beyond the transept chapel.

          The knight crashed into Adam, who had drawn up short. Standing in the door of the transept, sword drawn, was Harlan. The betrayal stabbed at Nigel, who worried about the horrors Adam would experience after he was executed.

          “Dodge left and shove me right,” Harlan said low.

          Nigel frowned, opening his mouth to question. 

          “Just do it,” Harlan swiped at Nigel, a slow blow that was easily avoided. He shoved Harlan to his right, watching as the old knight tumbled into the wall, his sword slicing hard into the ballast rope that held the chapel’s chandelier.

          Nigel grinned, shoving Adam through the transept door seconds before the mass of fire and iron crashed to the ground. He wished he could go back, hug the old man one last time, but they weren’t free of the guards yet.

          Grabbing Adam’s hand, Nigel ran to the livery, trying to ignore the shouts and sounds of guards as they raced behind them. Adam never hesitated, keeping pace with Nigel as they sped down steps and through narrow corridors.

          When they reached the stables, Darko stood at the mouth of the courtyard, held fast by Molly who waved them forward.

          “They’re yelling to close the gate! Go now!” Molly tossed the reins to Nigel, Adam scrambling into the cart beside him.

          “Wait!” Nigel turned to see Gabi, holding up a basket for Adam to take. “There’s two slices of wedding cake in there, sire, to celebrate your union.”

          Adam blinked at Gabi, before smiling. “Thank you.”

          She curtseyed, winking at the prince. “Don’t worry too much about the guards, someone cut through the girths on all the saddles in the stable.”

          “What’s going to happen to you?” Nigel asked, his hand finding Adam’s thigh and squeezing.

          “Nothing,” said Gabi. “What could two women do to stop the Wolf of Raki?”

          “Yes, we feared for our ears!” Molly laughed, slapping Darko’s flank.

          Nigel lifted his hand in a wave as they sped from the castle. When he brought his arm down, he wrapped it around Adam, who clung to his side.

* * *

 

           Finding the cabin was a feat in a forest with no paths. Adam had found a map tucked into their basket, but the way was bumpy and narrow with odd twists and turns. Nigel was forced to lead Darko by hand, picking his way over roots and brambles, helping the horse haul the cart over obstacles.

          Adam grew restless within a few hours, rocking gently in the cart and trying to remain calm. Nigel feared what would happen when the boy finally realized what he’d done. There were no routines to be had in the forbidden forest, no servants to bring ordered dinners, and no familiar beds to lie in. The prince relied upon his routines to ground him and keep him focused. He’d forgone it all for a knight who couldn’t even promise him he’d find the cabin they were seeking.

          “Wait!”

          Nigel’s heart stuttered. He waited to hear Adam cry, to beg to be taken home.

          “I think this is the entrance.” Adam pointed at a cliff face covered in vines. Nigel looked at the map, Harlan had marked it in his squat, blocky letters.

          Adam dismounted the cart and helped Nigel feel along the rock until his hand found an opening, just wide enough for a horse and a small cart. Nigel lead Adam and Darko through, returning to the entrance to sweep away any signs of cart wheels.

          Nigel found Adam wandering around their new home. Cabin was a generous term. Shack or shithole would have been Nigel’s choice of descriptors. The whole structure was one room with a dilapidated thatch roof and a chimney on the verge of collapse. It would be a miracle if the house didn’t blow over during the first fall storm.

          Nigel unhitched Darko, running a hand through the horse’s mane. “Don’t go far, yeah?”

          Darko gave Nigel a derisive snort before wandering to a patch of nettles.

          “It’s not like the palace,” murmured Adam as he poked at the cabin door, which opened with little resistance. “Oh. The lock is broken.”

          Nigel sighed, a wave of guilt crashing over him as he watched Adam wander into the home. What was he thinking taking this boy from his fine things and asking him to live in the middle of the woods? He’d ruined Adam’s life.

          The sound of Adam hyperventilating somewhere inside the cabin shook Nigel from his castigation. He raced through the door, grabbing his prince’s flailing hands and holding him tight to his chest. Adam rocked, Nigel moving with him and quietly whispering his love into the prince’s hair.

          “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” the words ran together into a chant as Adam pressed them to Nigel’s neck.

          “If you want to go back I can take you.” Nigel let the prince weep against his surcoat, gently stroking his hair and tugging at the errant curls. “It’ll be OK. Your dad will forgive you and you can-”

          “I’m, I’m so h-happy,” Adam wailed, clutching his knight tighter to himself. “I l-love you. I don’t w-want to go home, b-but I don’t know w-what to do here.”

          “Neither do I,” confessed Nigel, pressing kisses to the crown of Adam’s head. He lowered himself to the ground, Adam settled in the cradle of his hips. “We’ll have to figure it out together…Is- is that OK?”

          Nigel felt the prince nod into his shoulder, still rocking gently in his lap. “Everything’s different now, isn’t it?”

          “Yeah, gorgeous. It is.” Nigel squeezed Adam tighter. “B-but we can still do some things we did in the palace. You, uh, you can watch me train. You can laugh when Darko bites me. We can watch the stars.”

          Adam pulled away from Nigel, watery blue eyes meeting the knights. “Will you read to me?”

          “Always.” Nigel smiled, leading the prince to their small bed. It took Adam a long time to find a comfortable position, but he eventually settled, slotted into Nigel’s side. Nigel selected a book at random, reading a story about a chaste knight in search of a grail. As Nigel read about the brave knight avoiding temptation, he could feel Adam growing heavier and more relaxed in his arms. Nigel began to calm as well, letting the fear and excitement of the day shiver through him.

          Before sleep took him, Nigel looked down at the Cursed Prince of Raki, now the Kidnapped Prince of Raki.

          Adam lay with his head on Nigel’s arm, hand resting on Nigel’s scar, a small smile on his face. Nigel felt hope flicker in his chest, the flame small, but bright. Perhaps, if he worked very hard, he’d be lucky enough to see that smile every night for the rest of his life.

* * *

 

          Every morning for three months, Nigel woke waiting to hear Adam beg to be taken home. And every morning he’d wake to find his prince smiling softly in his arms and asking if they could perhaps fix the hole in the wall or learn to make bread today.

          There were fits. Some from Adam, as he settled into his new routines and tried to learn new habits, and some from Nigel, who seemed to hammer his thumb more than he ever hammered the nails and spare wood he found in the house. Still, their life together had begun to take form and Nigel found he liked the shape of it.

          Adam spent his days learning how to make plain flour biscuits from the recipe Harlan had tucked into one of the supply sacks and planting the seeds he found in another. He excitedly told Nigel about the corn, lentils, beans, carrots and oats that would spring from the land they cleared together. There was also talk of fruit trees that Adam spotted near the base of the Great Mountain, Adam asking Nigel how he felt about trying to cultivate an orchard in the spring. Darko had not taken well to being used as a farm horse, nipping at Nigel when he was used to pull stumps and brush from the earth, but the horse bore the indignity of a makeshift plow whenever Adam held the reins.

          Nigel spent the daylight hours shoring up the house until he was reasonably confident it wouldn’t fall on their heads. In the spring, he wanted to fell some trees in the clearing and perhaps build another room or two. He built traps in the stream and learned how to roast fish over hot coals. He had event tried tying some snares in the brush by the creek with limited success. Adam still told Nigel he preferred the taste of chicken, but would eat the fish with minimal complaining.

          At night, the pair took to the fields, armed with Adam’s refracting lens and their chart of the stars. They would lay together, each content with the proximity to the other as they made notes and pointed out new celestial movements. When the moon rose high, Adam would hold out his hand to Nigel, leading his knight to their bed before handing him a book.

          Slowly, life in the palace seemed to fade from Nigel’s mind. He rarely ever called Adam _sire_ or _highness_ anymore. He couldn’t recall the last time Adam had a fit over roasted grayling or spit-cooked grouse. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time Adam had a fit at all. There were still moments of fret and tension, but Adam had started to smile freely and often, and Nigel found himself forgetting what the prince’s tense little frown looked like.

          Nigel had thought about kissing Adam again, especially when the prince’s head would rest upon his shoulder while they looked at the sky, but he didn’t want to chance the tentative peace he had found with his darling. Instead, Nigel contented himself with running his fingers through Adam’s hair, tugging at the curls that were starting to curve wild around his ears. He could live like this, happily near his prince, for the rest of his life.

          Adam, apparently, could not.

          Nigel returned from the stream shaking his wet hair and batting at the droplets of moisture still gathered on his chest with the tunic in his hands. Bathing in the stream wasn’t so bad now, but he’d have to figure out a bath for the cabin before the winter freeze made ablutions impossible. Adam was sitting at the table, fingers tapping lightly on a copy of _Sir Degrevant_. Nigel frowned at the movement.

          “What’s wrong, darling?”

          “Sir Degrevant kisses Melydor when he wins her.” Adam drummed his fingers a little faster.

          Nigel felt a rivulet of stream water flow between his shoulders. He shivered. “Yeah.”

          “You won me.” Adam flexed his fingers before returning to his beat. “Why don’t you kiss me?”

          Nigel raised an eyebrow at that, a grin twisting at the side of his mouth. He walked to their rickety table pulling one of the chairs close to Adam before sitting. “Who says I won you? You won me!”

          Adam’s brows scrunched. “You stopped my wedding to declare your love.”

          Nigel’s smile grew wider. “I did do that, didn’t I?”

          “Yes.” Adam’s eyes always fluttered around the room, but Nigel noticed they kept falling to his mouth.

          “So, since I won you, I suppose it’s my duty to kiss you, huh?”

          “I-if you don’t want t-” Nigel was on him before Adam could talk anymore nonsense.

          Sealing their mouths together, Nigel gathered Adam into his lap. Adam remembered to keep his mouth relaxed, and Nigel rewarded him with a few playful nips and sucks to his bottom lip. The prince’s hands fell to Nigel’s chest, kneading at his pecs and tugging the thatch of hair he found.

          Nigel pressed himself closer to Adam, rolling their hips together. Adam gasped, allowing Nigel’s tongue to slip past his lips as the prince started rocking on Nigel’s lap. The old chair began to groan beneath Nigel. The knight grabbed onto Adam’s legs and stood before they were thrown to the ground by shoddy workmanship.

          Adam didn’t seem to notice the change, still focused on sucking Nigel’s tongue from his mouth. Nigel felt Adam harden against his belly as he moved them toward the bed, his head swimming that he was allowed this with this perfect boy. When his knees hit the bed, Nigel lowered Adam to the mattress, smiling when the prince scrabbled to pull his knight on top of him.

          Nigel fell willingly, careful not to crush the prince who was straining to reach his lips again. Fine-fingered hands raked through Nigel’s wet hair, tugging at the strands as his mouth dragged over Nigel’s chin and neck.

          The knight settled between Adam’s legs, pressing into the hardness he found. Adam’s eyes went wide, his body stilling. Nigel froze too, searching Adam’s face for a sign that things were becoming too much. For a moment they shared breath, both panting into the scant inches between them.

          “Again,” Adam whispered, his hips bucking into Nigel’s when the knight began to move. “Again again again.”

          Nigel rested on his elbows, jaw tightening as he tried to draw out their pleasure, keep the fission of sensation between them from becoming too much too quickly. He wasn’t helped by Adam, who seemed set upon torturing his knight with nipping kisses to his jaw.

          “N-nigel.” Adam’s eyes roamed over Nigel’s face, landing on the scar at his neck. The prince licked over the scar, smiling when Nigel shuddered. “More.”

          The canvas pants grinding against his weeping cock was just painful enough to keep Nigel from losing himself completely to Adam’s mouth. The knight leaned on his left arm, freeing his right to grab at Adam’s thigh and wrap it around his hip.

          When he rolled his hips again, the increased pressure made Adam groan. His fingers found Nigel’s hips, digging in and grinding them into his own. Nigel could feel the tension building in Adam’s body, and knew it wouldn’t be long. 

          Nigel pulled back, running a soft hand from Adam’s chest to his belly. “Undress for me, gorgeous.”

          Adam blinked, eyes glassy. “W-what?”

          Nigel slipped his hand beneath the hem of Adam’s shirt, fingers playing lightly over the heated flesh he found. “Take your things off, darling. I want you bare.”

          Adam’s fingers moved to the fastenings of his breeches with a speed that made Nigel thrill. His little darling was as desperate for it as he was, clearly. Nigel shucked his canvas trousers and fell naked on the bed, watching as Adam hopped around the room, grappling with his boot ties. When he was finally barefoot, Adam carefully stored his breeches and linen shirt on their table, taking the time to fold the garments and gently lay them down.

          Task done, Adam returned to the bed, eagerly crawling toward Nigel, cock bobbing. Nigel caught the boy by his shoulders, stilling him for a moment so Nigel could drink him in. The prince’s smooth chest was flushed pink and heaving rapidly. Dark curls tumbled now into Adam’s brow and over his ears. The blue eyes Nigel loved so well were darker, like a storm on the seas as they met the knight’s gaze.

          “You’re gorgeous, my love.”

          “You’re very handsome too, Nigel.” Adam reached out, letting his fingers meet Nigel’s scar for a glancing caress before traveling through the fur of Nigel’s chest. Adam hesitated for a moment, fingers twitching over the softness of Nigel’s belly before he lowered his hand to Nigel’s cock.

          Nigel let out a choked breath as tentative fingers mapped the flesh of him. The prince licked his lips, frowning in concentration as he traced a vein before tugging softly at Nigel’s foreskin with his index finger. Nigel made another aborted noise, breathing hard through his nose. Adam looked up, eyes bright and curious. “What do I do?”

          The only words Nigel could think of were _Adam_ and _love_ , twisting together in the recesses of his brain. Still effectively mute, Nigel brought his hand to Adam’s guiding the prince to wrap his fingers around Nigel’s ruddy cock and pump him slowly. Adam found the rhythm easily, settling onto his knees, hard pink cock seemingly forgotten as he studied Nigel.

          With each pump of his fist, he’d gauge Nigel’s desperate noises, a curious finger dragging over the pre-come beading at the knight’s exposed tip. When the prince brought his finger to his lips, sucking the fluid from the pad in a vision so debauched Nigel hadn’t dared dream it, the wolf knight could take no more.

          “A-adam-” The prince released him, worry clouding his face when Nigel moved to sit up, back against the wall. Nigel smiled, holding out his arms to his love. “If you don’t kiss me soon, I’ll die.”

          Adam lunged forward, clacking their teeth together in his eagerness to reclaim his knight’s mouth.

          Nigel pulled Adam forward until the prince was straddling Nigel, flush cock slotted against Nigel’s own.

          “O-oh.” Adam pulled back, his mouth slack and slick as he rolled his hips experimentally. The slow drag of sensitive flesh against flesh made him shiver in Nigel’s arms. He did it again and again, grinding against his knight as his breath became thready. “N-Nigel, this feels so, so-”

          “I know, darling,” Nigel began lifting his hips into Adam’s thrusts. He wormed a hand between them to grip both their cocks together. The prince keened, his head falling back as he thrust harder.

          Nigel craned his head forward, lips brushing against Adam’s neck as he worked them together.

          “Adam. A-Adam.” The name fell from his mouth like a prayer, he pressed it into his love’s neck as they rocked.

          “P-please please.” Adam didn’t say what he was asking for, but Nigel had a hunch.

          The knight tangled his free hand into Adam’s hair, yanking the prince back to his mouth. Adam came with a cry, biting hard at Nigel’s lower lip and drawing blood. Nigel followed shortly after, the taste of copper and Adam on his tongue.

          Adam fell forward into Nigel’s embrace, body shaking as he worked through the sensations. Nigel held his prince tight, the pressure helping to calm the boy as he came back to himself. Nigel found he was shaking too, a broad smile stretching his face too wide as he held the man he’d dreamt of since he was fifteen.

          When the prince stopped trembling in Nigel’s arms he made a face, running his hand through their mutual spend.

          “We’re sticky,” Adam complained, eyes shifting to Nigel’s. “And you’re bleeding.”

          “Crazy wolf prince nearly took my lip off,” Nigel teased, reeling Adam closer to him and kissing him with bloody lips. “I’m lucky to be alive.”

          “You’re the wolf! You’re my wolf.” Adam pecked a kiss to Nigel’s neck, lips tugging at his scar.

          “I am, sire. I am.” Nigel howled softly, his hands finding a few tender spots along Adam’s ribs to tickle until the prince was laughing in his arms. Nigel kissed Adam’s smile when it came. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

          Nigel stood, hauling Adam over his shoulder. The prince kicked at him, squirming in the hold as Nigel walked to the cabin door.

          “I’m naked!”

          “Don’t worry, Darko won’t look.”

          Adam stopped struggling in the hold, instead curious fingers began to trace along the muscles in Nigel’s back, dipping toward his ass and squeezing. “Can we kiss some more tonight? After stargazing?”

          “We can, _uh_ can k-kiss whenever you want, gorgeous.” Nigel was finding it hard to find words with royal hands kneading his backside. There were other things he had a mind to do to his prince, but he was in no rush.

          “Maybe we can kiss when we get to the stream,” Adam suggested, making Nigel falter in his steps. He wasn’t sure they’d make the stream. His cock was filling again, and he could feel the insistent press of Adam’s cock against his chest.

          Nigel grinned wide, turning his head to nip softly at the hip resting on his shoulder, delighting when it made Adam yelp and swat him across the buttocks like a naughty child. He always knew Prince Adam of Raki would be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Up:**  
>  Find out the fate of Harlan and the boys, and if there's a happily ever after.


	7. Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harlan started this story, let's let him finish it, shall we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I'm TECHNICALLY back, and have responded to no one, because I am covered in weird southern bug bites and like...what the hell, southern bugs? I've done nothing to you! So, that's what's going on now. I PROMISE, I'll be a good author and get back to you, I'm just trying to wrangle three stories and not scratch the bejesus out of my legs. 
> 
> As always Gwilbers is the greatest and you should thank them for reading this mess before you do.

          Harlan limped out to the sturdy wooden chair that overlooked the vegetable garden. He hadn’t been able to walk without a cane in an age, but at least he could still walk well enough to come outside and enjoy the warm weather. As he lowered himself into the chair, his knees protested, but his old bones finally settled, warmed by the sun.

          “Harlan! You’re up!” Adam stood from the rows of sweet melons he was picking. “You slept very late this morning.”

          “I’m an old man, Adam,” Harlan grumbled. “And if I didn’t have to listen to you two moaning half the night, maybe I’d sleep sounder.”

          “Did we wake you again?” Adam frowned. “I thought I was being quiet.”

          “Nigel sure as hell wasn’t.”

          “Oh, well, he really enjoys it when I use my fingers to-”

          “Go back to your melons and leave an old man in peace!”

          Adam nodded, turning to thump on a few sweet melons, checking for ripe ones.

          Harlan squinted into the sun, lord save him from the honesty of Adam of Raki. Still, it was kind of the boys to take in an old man, even if he couldn’t get a decent night’s sleep.

* * *

 

          In the days after Adam and Nigel fled, Harlan had been taken to the dungeon. He’d made his peace with what was likely to come, imagining which of the dulled implements hanging on the wall would be used to end him in front of a cheering crowd.

          The king didn’t know he’d helped in the escape, that was his only chance at a quick death. He blamed the feeble old man for being bested by Nigel in the chapel, and for bringing _That Deviant_ into his court. Harlan hoped King Raki wouldn’t burn him alive on a pyre, he’d always imagined dying from a blade, or maybe in his bed as an old man.

          Each day King Raki and Sir Charles would trudge down to the dungeon. They’d question him on places Nigel would hide, what Nigel’s habits were, whether there were any warning signs that Nigel was a warlock using the curse to pervert the king’s only heir. Harlan would tell the truth – he’d found Nigel on the docks and that he’d always been good to Adam in his presence. The king would smile kindly, patting Harlan’s knee and offering him a quick death if he could just think of a direction to send the guards. Harlan would shrug, bracing for Charles’ gauntlet to make contact with his head again. Then, as he bled on the stone floor, there would be talk of the long painful death Harlan would suffer if he remained silent. The beatings didn’t bother him as much as they ought to – Harlan knew his boys were safe, and that would have to be enough.

          Gabi and Molly kept him fed during those weeks in the dark – smuggling bits of food and water to him when the guards were distracted. Sir Gunther came down once, telling the guard he wanted a chance to confront the man who betrayed his king.

          When the knight stepped into the cell, he grabbed Harlan, slamming him against the wall.

          “They’ve no clue where they are. You hold out another week, and he’ll call off the search,” Gunther whispered into Harlan’s ear. Then he pulled back, raising his voice. “I’ll see you gutted in the square for this, wretch!”

          Harlan smiled. He could hold out another week.

          It took eight days for the announcement to reach him. King Raki was to be married to Princess Beth – a joining of the kingdoms that would finally defeat the curse. The king had consulted a healer who confirmed that his son was dead. Nigel the Betrayer was killed by the king’s guard. His body would be displayed in the square. _Don’t worry_ Gabi told Harlan as she handed him a torn piece of bread _the man in the square doesn't have Nigel’s thighs, and his hands are too small._

          The kingdom would be in mourning for exactly one month, with the bereavement period ending in a wedding.

          Adam was dead, and Harlan was glad of it. Declaring him dead meant the king would cease his searching and the boy would have a chance at happiness.

          During the month of mourning, Harlan was quietly released from the dungeons. King Raki had decided a public execution would just remind the kingdom of his recent embarrassment with his son, and that he would be merciful to the old knight instead. Stripped of his title, his money, and his honor, Harlan wondered if it really was mercy to drive an old man into the streets with nothing. Gunther bought his horse at auction, leaving Amin saddled with a few gold pieces in his saddle bag outside the village. Gabi handed Harlan everything she could steal from the kitchen, packed in a small burlap pack.

          With his newfound freedom, Harlan thought of heading to the Forbidden Forest, but worried that the king might be having him watched. Instead he headed south – into the mountains and toward the kingdom of Buchwald.

          He worked when he could – a tavern owner let him sleep in the storage room if he swept up the place – and spent his nights wondering if his boys were OK. He knew Adam would take some time adjusting to the change, but he had faith that Nigel could keep the prince safe and happy if given half a chance.

          Three years into his new life in Buchwald, the news reached him. Queen Beth of Raki had given birth to a son, Elias. The kingdom, evidently, was saved. There were rumors of some sort of physical malady afflicting the baby, but the announcement of the birth and upcoming public presentation of the child in court meant the king was finally satisfied with his heir.

          Harlan knew then it was time to go back. When he made it to the Kingdom of Raki, he was careful to keep himself covered by a cloak. He cautiously traversed the little towns and farms, moving toward the Forbidden Forest.

          It took him hours to find the cliff face with the opening. His memory wasn’t as sharp as it used to be and he took several wrong turns. But just as the sun was starting to sink, Amin led him to the right place. He felt along the wall with gnarled hands, smiling when the vines gave way.

          The first thing he saw was the cabin, now more of a house. The walls had been shored-up and a small paddock was at the tree line. Harlan let his mouth twist into a little smile; it looked like several rooms had been added since he last laid eyes upon the place.

          Nigel, it seemed, had been busy.

          The cabin was surrounded by three fenced garden patches filled with lush crops in neatly ordered rows.

          That would be Adam, then.

          Harlan smiled. His boys were doing just fine.

          The door to the cabin opened and Adam emerged. His hair was longer now, curls falling over his eyes and down his neck. The prince heaved a large basket on his hip, heading to the garden.

          An arm shot out from the doorway, catching Adam at the waist and yanking him backwards. The prince let out a squawk, dropping his basket, as he was pulled into the chest of a tall bearded man. Adam swatted the man once before smiling and drawing him into a kiss.

          Harlan blinked.

          Nigel had grown broader and tanner since Harlan had last seen him. Apparently, days in the sun, building up the cabin had agreed with the Wolf of Raki. With his beard, he really did look like a wolf, Harlan mused. But even with all his physical changes, there was no hiding the look of adoration in Nigel’s eyes when he pulled back to smile at Adam – that Harlan would recognize anywhere.

          Adam was tugging Nigel back for another kiss when the former knight looked up, sensing someone watching him. When he saw Harlan, he grinned, raising his chin to draw Adam’s attention.

          “HARLAN!” Adam was running, crashing into the old man with a hug. “Where have you been? I was getting worried.”

          “You were?”

          “Nigel said you’d come, but it’s been so long.”

          “I told you he’d show up eventually,” Nigel said, he held out a hand to take Harlan’s pack. “Old bastard probably got lost in the woods.”

          “I wanted to stay away until I was sure I wouldn’t be followed.” Harlan patted Adam on the shoulder, marveling at how well the prince looked.

          “Oh, has father forgiven me?”

          Harlan’s gut twisted. He looked at Nigel, not sure if the truth was a kindness or not. Nigel’s mouth thinned for a moment, before he nodded at Harlan. The younger knight wrapped an arm around Adam, pulling the prince back to his chest and pressing a few soft kisses to Adam’s neck.

          “He…he declared you dead. Killed by Nigel, I think, who then was killed by the guards. They hung some poor bastard in the square and said it was Nigel, anyway.”

          Adam’s mouth pursed. Nigel gripped him tighter. Harlan cleared his throat, best to get it all out in one go.

          “He had the kingdom mourn you for a month. Then, he married princess Beth.”

          “I-is there an heir?”

          Harlan nodded. "Prince Elias of Raki." 

          “Good.” Adam’s fingers were tapping frantically. “He never wanted me. I hope my brother isn’t a disappointment.”

          Adam took a shaking breath. Nigel turned him, pillowing Adam’s head to his chest and rocking gently. He kissed the crown of Adam’s head and smiled over the prince’s curls at Harlan. “Well, let him have her, and the fucking kingdom. I like this place better.”

          “Me too.” Adam's voice was muffled by Nigel’s chest, but clear enough. After a few more moments of rocking Adam tapped Nigel, who released him with another kiss to his crown. Adam turned, eyes watery, but breathing evenly. “You must be tired. Nigel will take you to your room while I get some quinces for dinner.”

          Adam turned on his heel and ran for the house, retrieving his basket before heading to the fruit trees in the distance.

          “He’ll be alright, he threw a bigger fit when I came home late from a hunt,” Nigel murmured as they watched the prince inspect the fruit. “Come on, let me take you to your room.”

          “My room?”

          Nigel smiled. “Built it the first year we were here. Just in case we had to take in any flea-bitten old knights that showed up.” 

          Harlan’s chest grew warm, he’d missed his boys. “I don’t need to stay here. I could just visit, find somew-”

          “You leave, you’ll be the one to tell Adam.” Nigel poked Harlan in the chest. “And deal with the fit he throws. You’re staying here, old man.”

          Harlan reached out and rested a hand on Nigel’s shoulder as they walked. He smiled when the younger knight brought his hand up to squeeze it.

* * *

 

          “You dead or dreaming, you old bastard?”

          Harlan glared at Nigel, who blocked the sun as he stood over the older knight. “I should have beat you more when you were a squire.”

          Nigel shrugged. “Probably.”

          The younger knight offered Harlan a hand and pulled him to his feet. He held a string of fish aloft.

          “You wanna gut or scale?”

          “I’ll gut,” Harlan grabbed one of the larger fish. “Think I’ll call this one Nigel.”

          Nigel rolled his eyes but followed Harlan to the back of the cabin. After Nigel had built the new stone oven in the kitchen, Adam had banned him from cleaning fish in the house. Now, the men were relegated to gutting at a small table set in the shade of the quince trees. Adam used the guts to make some sort of spread he put on the plants – it seemed to work, but Harlan didn’t like to think about it.

          As Nigel and Harlan settled to clean the fish, Darko ran by, followed by a mare and a foal.

          “That little one’s getting bigger.” Harlan observed as he sank the knife into a grayling.

          Nigel nodded. “I thought I’d try to saddle it before the frost. It’s already eating out of my hand.”

          Harlan snorted. “You thought you’d do that with the mother too, and as I recall she almost took your hand off.”

          Nigel sneered at Harlan, flicking fish scales at him. They worked in silence for a while, Harlan concentrating on keeping the blade steady. He was having trouble with his fingers as the years wore on.

          When the fish were done, Nigel nudged him. “You up for stargazing tonight?”

          His boys went out every night, with their lens and their charts, lying out in the tall grass and mapping the sky. Sometimes, Harlan would join them, leaning heavily on Nigel as he was brought out to the field. Other nights, he’d stay by the fire, sneaking out to spy on the prince and his knight from the cabin door. It did Harlan’s heart good to see them cuddled up under the stars, Adam pointing excitedly at some new discovery while Nigel stole little kisses.  

          Harlan shook his head. “Don’t think my knees can take it anymore.”

          Nigel frowned, he brought his hand to his neck and looked at his toes. Suddenly, Harlan was reminded of the gangly boy who snarled at everyone in the court but a blue-eyed cursed prince. “I wouldn’t mind carrying y-”

          “You finish that sentence and I’ll gut you next, boy.”

          Nigel huffed a small laugh. “Fine. Adam and I will go alone.”

          Nigel gathered the fish and helped Harlan to his feet. He leaned close to the old knight, a smirk twisting his mouth. “Maybe we’ll just fuck in the field tonight. Then I won’t have to hear you bitch about how loud we were in the morning.”

          Harlan swung the cane at Nigel’s thick skull but the knight dodged it, laughing. If he had been a decade younger, he would have been able to hit that smirk off Nigel’s fool face. But he still had a trick or two up his sleeve.

          “ADAM!”

          The smile fell from Nigel’s face and he turned just in time to see Adam pop his head up from a patch of oats.

          “He’s antagonizing me again!”

          Harlan could see the determined little frown form on the prince’s face as he marched from his crops. The old knight smiled at Nigel sweetly.

          “I’ll get you for this, old man.”

          “You’ll try.”

          Nigel smiled in spite of himself before turning to placate his angry love. Harlan watched in bemusement as the big man held his hands up in surrender as he was lectured to with firm hand gestures and cross looks.

          Harlan couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, and it occurred to him that his hearing was starting go, along with his joints and his memory. He counted it a small mercy. Maybe when he was stone deaf, he’d finally get a decent night’s sleep.

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO...that's the end, and credit where it's due: Gwilbers suggested the identity of King Raki's other child. That is also the closest I'll probably ever get to writing Basic Chickens because I can never get the voices to sound right in my head. But if someone wants to write the tale of King Elias and the naughty servant Adam of Towers... you have my blessing! 
> 
> *Also, for those who are as weird as me, it's not mentioned in the story, but yes, Darko's mare is 100% named Beverly! ;) 
> 
> **Up Next:** I have one hannigram story finished and one that is growing longer by the minute. If you have a prompt, come find me on Tumblr and I'll see if I can knock that out for you!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Illustration for The Tale of the Cursed Prince and the Wolf of Raki](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14680256) by [TheSeaVoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSeaVoices/pseuds/TheSeaVoices)




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